


Declarations

by niklovr



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Gen, Interracial Relationship, Non-Canon Relationship, Unconventional Families, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklovr/pseuds/niklovr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the devastation at the prison, two groups are formed and in their reunion, discover a deeper connection. Of course, these discoveries don't come easy in a post-apocalyptic world. Expect angst, emotional baggage, sociopaths, romance, and walkers. Definitely a Richonne tale. Possibly Dasha, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> [The Walking Dead and its characters are not mine. I only derive pleasure from watching the series and writing and reading fan fiction. However, this fan fiction is mine as are the original characters that I've created. Please note the events in this story will play off the events from the latter half of season 4. At this time, I'm not sure if Terminus will happen in this fic. We'll see where the story goes.]

Declarations

 

Part 1: Reunited

 

Michonne took a bet on the tracks in the muddy trail. The smaller foot print was just the right size for a teen boy like Carl Grimes, and the bigger print dragged in the mud as Rick's would have given the condition he'd been in the last time she saw him. Had it been only a day ago? Like The Before when she'd lost Mike and baby Andre, she lost time. But unlike before, she came back around faster.

 

After finding the tracks, she felt as though she was being pulled—no, guided. The huge empty can of chocolate pudding spun in the late fall breeze. For a moment, she was reminded of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The muddy trail led to an empty can. In this world they got trails instead of rainbows and empty cans instead of dazzling pots of gold, but if this were a sign, she'd take it.

 

On wooden feet, she trudged toward the closest house. The white two-story frame structure was complete with a white picket fence, serving as yet another reminder of what used to be. With her arm raised back and her hand gripping the katana, Michonne climbed the steps to the porch. She bypassed an overturned chair and crept to a window. As she peered inside and her gaze locked on the pair sitting together on the floor—Carl and Rick—she began to shake. They were eating, laughing, and talking. They were alive. They were whole. Tears blurred her vision. Her greatest fear hadn’t been realized. It took everything she had to knock on the door when all she wanted to do was break it down and join them.

 

Rick's raspy voice held a smile as it carried through the wooden door. She heard him say, "It's for you." During the scrape of wood and other fumbles that she didn't try to decipher, she pulled back from the door and reminded herself to breathe. She had just wiped the wetness from her face when the door flew open and Carl flung himself at her.

 

"Michonne!"

 

"Well, hello there," she said, returning his embrace with equal intensity.

 

Over Carl's mop of dark brown hair, she caught Rick's stare. Unlike the other times, he didn't look away. Their gaze locked and held. He looked like hell. His face was still a wreck from the Governor's brutal beating. The rest of him look worn, but his eyes… Those blue eyes were just as intense as ever and so unwavering that she was rendered damn near breathless. Finally, he smiled.

 

"Carl, give her some air," he said, his eyes bright. "You're about to squeeze her to death."

 

She gasped loudly upon Carl's release and they both laughed. He took her hand and led her inside. Father and son secured the front door while Michonne regarded their digs. While she had slept in a car, these two hadn't done so badly for themselves. Nice, plush furniture with minimal dust. Michonne glanced into the next room and noted a dining room and kitchen. Not bad at all.

 

"You wanna look around or you wanna eat?" Rick asked, a faint grin curving his mouth.

 

Carl extended a plastic bag. "It's not much, but have some."

 

Before she could respond, her stomach decided to release the most embarrassing rumble.

 

"I guess that answers that," Rick said. "Why don't you get her some water, too?"

 

Carl half jogged to the kitchen. Michonne watched his exit with a faint smile. Even with her stomach growling and a couple cans of Vienna sausages at her fingertips, she wasn't quite ready to indulge in the basic instinct. A part of her had feared the worst. Adjusting to the reality that her nightmare hadn't come true was taking longer than she wanted.

 

"He's okay," Rick said quietly. "Really."

 

She turned away from the kitchen to find that he'd moved from his perch on the arm of the sofa. He stood just a foot from her. His hands hung at his sides. This close, she could see the strain he'd been under. Fearing for his life hadn't been in error. The Governor had beaten the shit out of him. But damn if Rick wasn't a fighter.

 

"You okay?" He cocked his head to the side as he bored his blue-eyed gaze into her.

 

"I'm…" She shrugged. "I'm good."

 

Carl returned with a bottle of water and several packets of Crystal Light. He chuckled as he let her choose. "I used to hate this stuff, but it's not so bad now."

 

She picked wild strawberry. "Thanks."

 

"So, what's the plan?" Carl asked, shaking a packet into his bottle. "What are we gonna do now?"

 

"Nothing." Michonne and Rick spoke simultaneously.

 

Once again, the elder Grimes held her eyes longer than necessary. Then he nodded and moved back to the sofa where he eased down gently onto it. "What she said," he murmured, jutting his chin toward her.

 

"Nothing?" Carl repeated.

 

Rick leaned back and closed his eyes. Michonne doubted if he was asleep that fast, so she reckoned this was his way of showing his confidence in her.

 

The confusion on Carl's face was adorable, but she knew he'd become insistent with questions if left ignored too long. Obviously, Rick was still in recovery. She didn't mind stepping in. Actually, she enjoyed it.

 

"We're here. We have shelter, sausages, and Crystal Light," she said. "Nothing sounds about right. Well, maybe…"

 

"Maybe what?" Carl asked.

 

"Maybe a bath…a nap. A little later, I may think about a food run."

 

"Come on," Carl said. "I'll show you the bathroom and stuff."

 

Michonne followed him upstairs, eager to scrape the muck of the last few days from her body and mind and be restored.

 

$%^&

 

Sleep beckoned, but Rick managed to open his eyes long enough to watch Michonne trail behind his son and ascend the staircase. How many times had he stared at her in wonderment? In confusion? In anger? In relief? In desire? She was an enigma and a godsend wrapped up in an unbelievably gorgeous package. When he looked through that peephole and saw her standing on the other side, he could have cried tears of joy.

 

He hadn't allowed himself to think about the others too much. Just getting him and Carl out had been harrowing enough. Then there was the pain that rippled through his body at every turn, which made coherent thought a near impossibility. Still, thoughts of Michonne trickled in. The Governor sonuvabitch had been seconds from killing him until she pierced that bastard with her sword. Michonne had saved him. Again. No doubt it wouldn't be the last time. Just her appearing on the porch— _how in the world did she find them?_ —was enough to rejuvenate his recovery. And if he could stop being selfish long enough to consider what her presence did for his son… Carl lit up brighter than a firecracker whenever she was around. She just seemed to have that affect on the Grimes men.

 

Rick rubbed a hand over his face as he heard the familiar sound of his son's footsteps on the stairs. "Show her everything?"

 

"She found the girly soaps without my help at all, but we both had to look for more towels," Carl said.

 

 _Girly soaps?_ Rick longed for more details, but he held back on asking. If he started with questions, his mind might wander to images of her stepping naked into a sudsy bath or lathering up in a steaming shower. He could just make out the silhouette of her dark curves and shapely ass—

 

"Dad."

 

"Damn," Rick murmured, blinking to push the visual from his mind.

 

"Dad!"

 

Rick jumped. "What? Carl, what's wrong?"

 

"I said I was going on a food run," his son answered. "Michonne needs to rest so I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna find more for the three of us."

 

"I'll come—"

 

"Dad."

 

Rick hated the look on Carl's face mostly because his son was right. He wasn't ready. He'd only be a hindrance instead of an asset. "Fine. It'll be dark soon. No more than two houses."

 

"But—"

 

"That's it," Rick said. "We have the sausages, cereal, and a can of beans that we can split. If that's it for tonight, we'll do fine. I want you back before dark."

 

Carl checked his gun in his holster and emptied the canvas bag onto the floor.

 

"Carl?" Rick straightened on the sofa. "Understand?"

 

The boy nodded. "I'll be back before dark."

 

He looped the bag over his neck and shoulder and headed out the back door.

 

With Carl gone and Michonne upstairs… _bathing_ …Rick soon found himself mildly rejuvenated. No, he wasn't his old, perky self, but his head was too busy with images for him to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Naked. In the bath. In the shower. Using her girly soaps.

 

"Shit, am I twelve?" he muttered.

 

He rose from the sofa and looked out the window. This neighborhood was the stuff of dreams. People used to bust their asses to cover the mortgages for homes like this. But that world was over. Working overtime to cover the mortgage and the extra car note was a thing of the past. They had far more pressing things to worry about now. _A guy goes to work, gets shot, and wakes up to find the world has gone to shit_ , Rick mused. Even with that pressing his mind, he was still very much aware of the woman upstairs.

 

"She's been up there awhile," he said, glancing at the staircase.

 

Rick moved carefully across the room. The steps left him a little winded, but he made it. If walkers weren't a concern, he would have called out for her, but he didn't dare take the risk. He grasped the railing and headed up. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His shirt stuck to his chest and he was only midway to the landing. He paused, caught his breath, and kept going.

 

The wall provided excellent support. After a few deep breaths, he was almost even again. This was his first time upstairs so he wasn't familiar with the layout. He tried several doors before he found the master bedroom. An intoxicating aroma of vanilla and lavender drifted toward him. He followed the scent willingly.

 

The master bathroom was in the far right corner. The door was slightly ajar. He knocked once and called softly, "Michonne…you okay?"

 

No response yielded another knock. When she didn't answer that one, he strode inside. The bathroom held a small shower with a glass door. Further down was a Jacuzzi bathtub. Michonne was in the bath. Her dreadlocks flowed against the back of the tub as her head was cocked back. Her left arm rested on the side. Her clothes were piled on the floor and the katana rested on top. He said her name again, but he was steadily moving toward her all the while.

 

A million tiny white bubbles hid her lithe body from view. She'd folded a few towels and placed them under her head. Her face was so peaceful. Her mouth was slightly parted and her breathing was even. Rick came close to leaving her, but sleeping in a bathtub was never a wise call.

 

He pushed the katana out of reach and knelt beside the tub. An overwhelming urge to touch her came close to undoing him, but he knew better. She trusted him. He would die before he ever betrayed her again. So instead of surrendering to his desire, he started talking to her.

 

"Michonne," he said, "I'm trying here. This here ain't easy. But I'm trying. I'm gonna need you to wake up."

 

He stopped and waited, but she only sighed.

 

"You fooling with me?" he asked. "Nah, I don't know why I thought that… C'mon, Michonne. You gotta wake up. Carl can't come back and find us like this.

 

"He was right. You sure found the girly soaps." He leaned in close and inhaled. "Sure smells good on you. Michonne.

 

"Damn." He realized he was a breath away from her mouth. It would be so easy to… "No, Rick," he murmured to himself. He stood and moved to lean against the sink. From there he spoke louder, "Michonne!"

 

"What?" She woke suddenly. Her hand grasped for the katana but it wasn't there. Her eyes were wide and round. Her expression was deadly until her gaze locked and focused on him. "Rick?"

 

"It's me," he said, feeling the heat course through him and flooding his face. "Sorry. You were taking too long, so I… Look, I was worried, so…"

 

He backed out of the bathroom, grabbed the doorknob and closed it on his way out. As he pressed his forehead against the door, he heard her distinct chuckle and a breathy, "Thanks."

 

Then he heard water sloshing and his mind returned to the glistening image of her perfect nude body and he high tailed it from the master bedroom as fast as the bulge in his pants would allow.

 

$%^&

 

Daryl didn't know what happened to Beth. He told her to run, to leave him, and when he saw the red taillights staring back at him as the car floored away, he supposed that's what she did. She ran. She left him. He placed no fault on her. For all she knew, the walkers had gotten him. He was a goner and she had to go or she would've been next. Those were the things he told himself as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder, grabbed his bag, and started walking.

 

Days like this he missed Merle's bike. How many miles did he cover on that thing? He shook his head. _Don't, man_ , he told himself. Surviving had always been about blocking out the shit that hurt. His father's beatings…Merle leaving him…his mama burning up to a crisp…Merle turning…the end of their home at the prison. _Shit_.

 

He had to stop that.

 

Daryl couldn't let himself wonder who made it out alright. Carol was already gone. Hershel was dead. He hoped the Lil Ass Kicker was okay. She just had to be.

 

Voices carried easy through the open woods. He'd trained himself to be aware. The stench of walkers drifted in from the east. He'd followed the tracks of a deer for half a mile, but then the voices came. There were at least three, possibly four, all men. He decided to let the deer go and hang back.

 

A person couldn't make it alone anymore, but only a fool would hook up with any old body.

 

Daryl kept his crossbow ready although he was careful to remain out of their line of vision. Their voices registered well enough that he could decipher tone even though the words weren't clear. They sounded like assholes. Knowing they were out and about was enough for him to keep his distance. He gripped his crossbow and headed away from them.

 

He walked for miles. The sun was at its highest by the time he reached the railroad tracks. Once there, he stepped between the rails and sat crossed legged on the gravel that had settled there. Hugging his bag and crossbow to his chest, Daryl felt the weight of the past few days settle over him. Before the burden completely took him under he noticed a figure headed toward him. He palmed his hunting knife but otherwise, he didn't move.

 

Time had lost meaning when the prison fell so Daryl couldn't say how long it took for him to recognize the form as someone slight, possibly a woman. She…or he…carried a weapon of some sort in her right hand. Her movements seemed wary, yet defensive. Something hung low on her left hip. The steps weren't too hurried, but he could tell this one wasn't foolish about the current state of events. He briefly wondered why she'd be alone and then he thought about himself.

 

"Shit happens."

 

Eventually she reached him. He cracked a smile in spite of himself. If that didn't beat all…

 

"Daryl?" Sasha asked, squinting as if her vision was off.

 

"It's me," he said. "I ain't no ghost or some shit like that."

 

She dropped to her knees. Then without warning, she was flush against him, her arms holding him tight. He was still for a moment but when she didn't let go, he hugged her to him. He wasn't alone anymore.

 

$%^&

 

Sasha smelled dirt, sweat, and unwashed flesh in Daryl's embrace, but she didn't care. After what she'd been through, silly things like personal hygiene ceased to matter. Blinking back tears while trying to figure out how to slide into the next moment, Sasha relaxed her hold of Daryl and leaned back. He looked away for a second or two before he faced her.

 

"Told ya I was real."

 

"You're a sight."

 

"I left my good stuff a few miles back." He gave her a once over. "Good to see ya in one piece. Glad ya made it out."

 

She nodded. "You too."

 

She'd set her stick and rifle down when she hugged him. Now, she retrieved them and used both as distractions. "Did you see what happened to…? I don't know about Tyrese."

 

"Me neither," Daryl said. "I was with Beth."

 

"Was? What happened?"

 

Daryl's face became blank. "Walkers came—"

 

"She's dead?" Sasha cut in.

 

"No," Daryl said. "She's gone. We got separated."

 

Sasha nodded again, understanding. "Walkers split us up, too."

 

"Us?" Daryl asked.

 

"Bob, Maggie, and me." She drew her fingers along the butt of the rifle. "We got together. Started off looking for the bus…helping Maggie look for Glenn. Maybe find Tyrese along the way… But walkers set in during a fog. Things got mixed up and I lost them."

 

"Maggie's a good fighter," Daryl said. "Bob ain't no slouch either."

 

"I know."

 

He closed his hand over hers. "No, are you hearing me?"

 

"I heard you." Sasha regarded the larger hand that had stilled hers. She couldn't remember ever being this hands on with Daryl Dixon before. He was as filthy as she, but there was something so appealing about his touch. Then far too quickly, he pulled his hand away and started digging in the gravel.

 

"Daryl?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"You just gonna sit here?" she asked, watching him toss the gravel at bushes. "Sit here on the tracks?"

 

"You got something better to do?"

 

Sasha considered his question and realized he had a point. Just as she was about to get comfortable, he stood and extended his hand. She accepted his offer, mostly for the human contact, and wasn't disappointed. Her hand still felt really good pressed against his.

 

He gave her a quick squeeze before he grabbed his gear. "C'mon."

 

"Something better to do?"

 

"Anything's better than losing light on these tracks—"

 

"Hey!" she said, moving fast to stay in step with his purposeful stride. "You were sitting there when I found you."

 

"Waiting for ya," he said.

 

She was about to protest when she noticed the smirk on his face. They'd had an easy relationship at the prison. Both were on the council. They planned runs together. As with most things, Sasha took her role seriously. Tyrese advised that she could loosen up a bit. Relax. Laugh. She noted how the others often engaged in light banter and some even pulled pranks. Daryl wasn't the worst, but he wasn't immune to teasing or being teased. Sasha, on the other hand, seemed to have a sign on her back that said, 'off limits.' It was her fault, she knew, but letting her guard down didn't come easy. Even before everything happened, she'd always been the odd woman out.

 

Sasha didn't like to dwell on the old days. She'd discover new strengths in this different world. She was a fighter, a survivor. Still, lingering on the outside bothered her. It hurt. When she got separated from Bob and Maggie, she wondered briefly if they had ditched her.

 

"Cat's got your tongue?" Daryl asked after several miles of silence.

 

"Nope," she said quietly.

 

"Got any food in that bag?"

 

She gave him a look. "You're full of questions."

 

"Do ya?"

 

She shrugged. Thinking of food was the worst. She hated that he'd mentioned it. "Some nuts. A few berries. I found some mushrooms, but I wasn't sure about them."

 

"I'll check them out," he offered.

 

"What's in your bag?" she asked.

 

"The last of some jerky. Want it?"

 

She stopped him as he reached into his bag. "I can't take your last. Keep it."

 

"Berries an' nuts won't keep ya on your feet." He handed his provisions over. "Eat. I'll get us a squirrel or somethin' for dinner."

 

"You're good with that crossbow," she said, tugging on her first bite of jerky. It was tough, salty, and stringy, but it was food.

 

"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "I am."

 

Their gazes locked. She wasn't sure if he was being cocky or acknowledging a fact. Then his mouth curved into a short grin. Sasha found herself returning the gesture. A mixture of emotions soared through her, but the one she settled on was relief. She wouldn't have to worry about being left again. Daryl wouldn't leave her. She for damn sure wouldn't leave him.

 


	2. Claimed

Daryl had never seen a woman tear into squirrel meat the way Sasha had the night before in front of their campfire. She damned right savored it. They'd been talking about what could have happened to everyone and whether or not the bus she found was _their_ bus when the conversation came to a dead stop. He chuckled to himself as he thought of it now. He handed her the branch with the meat still smoking and sizzling, and Sasha's mouth dropped. No words came. He swore he felt her inhale the scent. If he hadn't warned her it was too hot to eat, he knew she would’ve burned her mouth and tongue right then.

 

_It would've been a shame, too. Sasha had a pretty mouth._

Daryl's steps faltered. _Where the hell had that come from?_

 

"What is it?" she asked, a few steps ahead of him. "Walkers?"

 

"Nah." He shook his head. "Nothing."

 

He adjusted the bag on his shoulder and set the crossbow on his back just right. Not that it hadn't been fine a minute ago. He had to do something to get his mind off her tongue and shit.

 

"What the hell?" he muttered under his breath.

 

"You okay?" she asked, waiting for him to catch up.

 

"Fine."

 

He avoided her eyes. He wasn't sure if his thoughts were showing on his face. Carol used to say he was too closed off, but Merle read him like a book. He sensed that others could, too, at times. He figured thinking about Sasha that way was natural. Sex. That sort of thing. He respected her. She was a fighter. Kinda bossy. Served on Council well. A little distant, but shit, who wasn't?

 

As Daryl reached her, they fell into step together again. They followed the rail tracks, hoping it would lead them to a town. Someplace to hole up. The nights were getting colder and they could do for some supplies. Maybe they'd run into their crew.

 

"I didn't say thank you," Sasha said, after a few miles down the track.

 

Daryl looked at her. He'd been thinking about what they'd do if a town didn't appear soon. Maybe following the tracks had been a bad idea. Maybe the road would have been better.

 

"I'm talking about the squirrel," she added. "I just wolfed it down. My mama raised me right. I have manners, you know. Thanks, Daryl."

 

He frowned. "You don't have to thank me for that."

 

"I want to." She gave him a faint, rare smile. "I want you to know I appreciate it."

 

"You gonna start slobbering on me again?" He wanted to keep it light, but inside, he was starting to feel warm. The way she was looking at him made him feel special.

 

She grinned for a half second. "I might."

 

"Aw, shit."

 

They both laughed.

 

Minutes later, another thought came to Daryl. He stopped again and knew Sasha would do the same.

 

"We just got up and started walking, but what if we could find Maggie and Bob?"

 

She frowned. "It was a bad fog. I don't know which way I came out of it." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a compass. "It's broken. I should've tossed it, but…"

 

He looked back the way they'd come. The sun wasn't too high in the sky. Dew still clung to the leaves. Backtracking now wouldn't put them too far behind, but hell; it wasn't like they were on any kind of schedule anyway.

 

"Whatever you wanna do," she said, pocketing the compass.

 

Daryl considered the pros and cons. Had he tried to find their trail yesterday when Sasha found him, maybe this would be a bright idea. But he remembered the other voices he'd heard. He didn't want to risk picking up the wrong scent and tracking them straight into an ambush. After a minute or two, he shook his head.

 

"Nah, we'd better not."

 

By noon, he was reconsidering the advantages of the road versus the track. Sasha was starting to lag a bit, but he could tell she didn't want him to know. She straightened her shoulders whenever he looked in her direction. He nodded toward the trees.

 

"Need a break," he said. "What about you?"

 

"Yeah," she said with a sigh.

 

They parted at an oak. Daryl answered the call of nature behind a row of bushes while listening out for Sasha. He finished quickly and was relieved to find her already waiting for him by the large tree.

 

"I'd love to refill this bottle." She showed him that she only had a few swallows left of water.

 

"Might be a creek back in here."

 

He took the lead. His gaze scanned the forest floor, looking for telltale signs of small animals and nearby watering holes. Eventually, he found what he was looking for.

 

"Start gathering twigs," he told her.

 

Daryl moved a few paces ahead. She took up the rear and to his surprise, her steps were as quiet as his. He spotted a grove of pecan trees and not too far ahead was a small pond. A flicker of movement caught his attention and he grew still. Sasha was so close that he felt her heat on his back. He held out his arm to keep her in place.

 

He squinted his eyes to zero-in on the bushes that fluttered. It could've been a buck, but Daryl wasn't sure. He motioned for her to stay behind him. Using the forest as cover, he tried to edge closer, but a clearing caught him up short. He waved for Sasha to step back. He followed and they squatted down.

 

"What is it?" she whispered.

 

"Ssh."

 

Daryl waited. If it was a buck, he had it and they were eating good tonight. Still, he had a cagey feeling in his gut. Something told him to be wary. He kept his eyes peeled. Then he saw them. Two men about average build were moving through the trees. Daryl couldn't tell if they were on the hunt, pissing, or fucking. They were just there. He wished he knew if they were the assholes from before or if there were more. If he was alone, it wouldn't matter. He could deal, but he had Sasha. That changed everything.

 

He motioned for her to go back and hoped she wouldn't say anything. To her credit, she just crawled like he told her to. Once they were in a thicket, he stood and pointed for them to get out.

 

"Hey!"

 

_Fuck_.

 

Daryl considered pretending a bout of deafness. Sasha stiffened behind him, but he knew she'd follow his lead.

 

"Hey, ya'll!"

 

_Shit_ , Daryl thought. _Walkers loved noise. Didn't these dumbasses know this?_

He turned around and saw that the two men were several yards away. If they had weapons, Daryl couldn't tell from this distance, but he didn't let that sway him.

 

Before Sasha moved, he caught her wrist. Her eyes widened as they met his. _What?_

"If they ask, you're mine."

 

$%^&

 

Michonne had spent a lot of time not thinking about Rick finding her in the bathtub. They were adults. She knew hers wasn’t the first nude female body he'd seen, but the few times thoughts had snuck in, she wondered how much of her nude body had he seen. His blue eyes had grown bright and the red underneath his tanned face had reminded her of Christmas lights in the mall. Later, they avoided the topic as they enjoyed Carl's small haul of soup and sardines. Occasionally, their eyes would meet and something fluttered in her lower belly.

 

_As they settled down together that first night, she smiled at Carl as he prepared the recliner for her. Out of nowhere, Rick shuffled behind her and said against her ear, "He's kinda happy you found us."_

_The sensation started again. She pressed her hand against her abdomen as she nodded._

_She sensed him pause. Half of her wanted to turn and face him, but she feared what would happen. The truth was she was damn happy to have found them, too._

_Carl finished tucking the sheet in just so and plumping the pillow. He handed it to her. "Here. Want a blanket?"_

_"The sheet should be enough," she said._

_She kicked off her boots and set the katana within arm's reach. It had never taken her so long to sit before, but she wasn't quite ready to turn and face them. Well, not them. Rick. She could still feel his heat on her back and his eyes burning into her. There always seemed to be something else on the tip of his tongue, but the words never came. Carl's youthful enthusiasm usually filled the gap and it was doing so again, but still. She couldn't use the numerous tasks at the prison to avoid whatever wasn't said. The prison was gone. And here she was alone with the Grimes men. This time it wasn't a dream or a forbidden moment of what if. It was real._

_"Michonne?" Carl's voice was insistent as if he'd called her several times. "I swear it's clean."_

_"What?" She turned and settled on the recliner. As she did so, the frown on Carl's forehead smoothed. Rick remained silent and his gaze stayed steady. She pushed the recliner back until it was more comfortable. "What're you talking about?"_

_"The sheets," Carl said. "Never mind."_

_"You're not staying on the floor?" she asked him._

_"I don't mind." He glanced at his father and at the door. "We're all together."_

_"There's room on the sofa," Rick said, sliding over. He winced once and held his side. With his other hand, he patted the empty space. "Get up here. Michonne's right. Plenty of room."_

_"Dad_ _…"_

_"Now, Carl."_

_She bit back a smile as Carl groaned and obeyed his dad. The sigh of contentment that escaped gave him away and they all laughed. Once again, she found her gaze connecting with Rick's. Flickering candlelight made his expression unreadable, but just knowing that he found the need to connect with her was a powerful tug on her emotions. After bottling the hell of the past few years up and finally unleashing it all, she wasn't quite sure what to do with this pull to Rick._

_Prior to the awakening in the forest, she would have continued to ignore it on a conscious level, but she didn't want to be that person anymore with her katana swinging while her head was metaphorically buried in the sand. And if she was completely honest, it wasn't just Rick who drew her in. Carl had a hold of her, too. She couldn't let herself be afraid to feel anymore. She had to let her guard down. Learning how would be the tricky part._

_"Michonne?"_

_"Ssh, Carl. She's probably asleep."_

_"No, I'm not," she said. "What's up?"_

_"You were so quiet," Rick murmured. "You okay over there?"_

_"Cozy enough," she said. "Recliners are the best."_

_"Is it a La-Z-Boy?" he asked._

_"A what?" Carl asked._

_She laughed. "It's a brand. No, I don't know. I'll tell you in the morning."_

_She pulled the sheet to her chin and curled on her side. Her chair had been angled to face the sofa. A strong current of peace settled over her as she watched them find comfortable positions. Soon, even breathing signaled that either one or both of them had succumbed to slumber. It struck her that being with them felt right and she was more in harmony with herself than she had been in a very long time._

_"Michonne?"_

_Rick's raspy voice carried softly in the darkness. She quickened at the sound of his Southern drawl. Even battle weary, he spoke with authority and a strange hint of trepidation._

_"Yeah," she said._

_"G'night."_

_"Good night, Rick."_

A pointy elbow nudged Michonne's side and pulled her from her musings.  She looked to her right and found Carl's questioning blue eyes peering at her. Heat rushed to her face and she was grateful that her skin tone hid the telltale signs of an embarrassing blush. She met the boy's hard stare with a fake frown.

 

"What?"

 

"You got quiet," he said.

 

"I got what?" She found the observation amusing. No one had ever accused her of being a chatterbox. Still, she and Carl had a certain vibe. She'd told Rick that she was done taking breaks and meant it. Her fog had lifted, but that didn't make her a jabbermouth.

 

"You kinda went someplace else," Rick said, slowing down to fall into step on her left side. "Thought you were sleep walking."

 

Considering her thoughts had been on him and that first night back with them, she wasn't ready with a response or an easy quip. Instead, she just shrugged. Although her gaze remained on the train tracks that lay before them, she sensed his gaze linger. Again. She also knew the moment he redirected his attention to the trail. But unlike before, he didn't walk ahead of her and Carl. This time, Rick stayed in step with Michonne and it felt right, being there between father and son.

 

"Hope we come on a town soon," Carl said.

 

"Tired?" she asked.

 

He shrugged.

 

"There's a water tower up ahead," Rick said. "Probably a town."

 

"We don't have to stop," Carl said. "We're still going to that place, right?"

 

"Terminus," Rick said. He glanced at Michonne.

 

"It was the plan," she replied, responding to his unanswered question.

 

"Yeah," Rick said quietly.

 

Picking up on his mood, she asked, "You changed your mind? Think it's like Woodbury?"

 

Rick frowned, shrugging. "It's hard to know. Can't go in unprepared."

 

"No—"

 

"But what if the others are there?" Carl asked. "What if they saw the signs, too?"

 

"They could be," she answered.

 

"You think it's stupi—"

 

"I never said that," Michonne cut in. "Never. They could be there, but your dad is right. We don’t know the place or the people. Checking in up here wouldn't be a bad thing. If there's a place to sleep instead of outside…"

 

"Get our bearings before we go in," Rick said.

 

Carl nodded, but he didn't say anything else about it. Michonne looked at the boy to gauge him. He had closed himself off. His mouth was drawn and his eyes were distant. Rick touched her shoulder and squeezed.

 

After leaving the two-story house with the white picket fence in a hurry, their days had been spent walking and their nights had been watchful as they lay out in the open. Rick had confided in Michonne about the men who had discovered their hideout and her clothing. He hadn’t gone into details about their plans for her, but from the darkness that filled his eyes, she could guess.

 

The trek had been hard on all of them. Their home at the prison had softened them. A roof over their heads and a bed to sleep in had made them forget what it had been like in the very beginning. The sudden destruction of everything they held dear was a good reminder as was these long daily walks. Michonne understood Carl's quiet and his need to hope for the others' survival, but like the unspoken message between her and Rick, they didn't want to get his hopes up. If need be, the three of them would make it out there together. They would start over again.

 

$%^&

 

Sasha prided herself on being an independent woman and taking care of herself. Then the world went to shit and she found out just how capable she was. Having Daryl make his little declaration struck a nerve. Her first inclination was to act out. Immediately. He must have read something in her eyes because his narrowed into slits as he glared at her.

 

"Don't," he muttered under his breath.

 

Before she could respond, the other men had closed the distance and were only a few feet away. Even without Daryl saying anything, she sensed that their speed unnerved him. Tension rolled off him. He stood coiled like a snake with his body set blocking hers from the men's view.

 

She readied her stick in her hand. It was good for walkers, so maybe the weapon could serve the same purpose on the living. Too bad her rifle was low on ammo. At this point, the firearm was more an accessory than a tool. As the men stepped closer, Daryl took another step in front of her. She peered over his shoulder and saw two dirty white men. One was tall, brunette, and appeared to be in his early thirties. The other was a little shorter with blonde shoulder-length hair. Both carried tire irons.

 

"Hey," the tall one said.

 

Daryl nodded once.

 

"Y'all lost?" asked the blonde with a laugh.

 

"Shut up," the tall one said. "Do you have a camp nearby?"

 

Daryl shrugged.

 

"I get it," the tall one said, "a lot of crazy assholes out here. Ours is a half mile east."

 

"They don't care—"

 

"If y'all need a place, we have some room," the tall one said. "I'm Lorenzo. That's Clay."

 

"Daryl. This is Sasha."

 

Lorenzo nodded in greeting. Clay stepped forward and looked them both up and down, his gaze lingering on Sasha.

 

"We gon' be on our way," Daryl said.

 

Something snapped. Loud grunts and squeals followed. They turned in the direction of the noise. Lorenzo and Clay nodded at each other.

 

"We got 'em!" Clay said before he disappeared into the foliage.

 

Lorenzo indicated for them to follow. "We spotted a wild boar a few nights ago and set a trap. We either got it or something else. Y'all welcome to join us."

 

"How many?" Daryl asked.

 

"Me, Clay, my sister-in-law, and my nephew are at the camp," he said. "My brother and Clay's cousin are out scavenging. It's a few of us, but we do alright, I guess."

 

Sasha touched Daryl's shoulder, and he turned to look at her. She got a good vibe from Lorenzo. She wasn't sure about Clay, but these people were offering to share food and shelter. Turning that down didn't seem like a smart idea. She nodded at Daryl.

 

"Sounds like you have a good bunch," she said.

 

"We're okay," Lorenzo answered. "At first, it was just me and my family. Then we met up with a few others that included Clay and Nash. Now, it's just the six of us."

 

"Y'all spare the room?" Daryl asked. He and Sasha followed at a measured pace. His posture still indicated lack of trust and a preparedness to protect if necessary.

 

"You'll see," Lorenzo said. "Look, I'm no saint, but I'm not a jackass either. If you need a spot, come on. Dawn'll be happy to see Sasha, that's for sure."

 

"Don?" Daryl frowned.

 

"Dawn, my sister-in-law. She's been stuck with guys for…well, for awhile," Lorenzo said. "She'd liked the female companionship."

 

"What about Clay?" Daryl asked. "He better not try nothin'."

 

"He won't. It's obvious you're together," Lorenzo said. "He's not fool enough to mess with another man's woman."

 

$%^&

 

Rick had taken note of the clouds forming overhead. He hoped the storm would move north and bypass them, but given their luck, the clouds only darkened and hung in wait. The water tower was further than he'd guessed. Michonne had entertained Carl with the age-old debate of Batman vs. Superman and to her credit, his son pulled free of his funk. A few times, Rick had caught the smile in her eyes and found himself staring longer than he had a right to. If she found his behavior strange, she didn't let on. It was one of the many things he appreciated about her.

 

Fat droplets teased them with a sporadic cadence. Carl piped in with the last word, "Kryptonite!" just as Rick spotted an abandoned railcar not too far down the track.

 

"There!" he pointed.

 

The word left him seconds before a loud thunderclap shook the ground. The trio raced for the railcar with surprising speed considering their lack of nourishment. Rick had his firearm and knife ready for walkers, lying in wait. Michonne reached the car first.

 

She called back, "Clear."

 

The open car was a godsend. They climbed inside and stood in the open doorway. The clouds hadn't made good on its threat, but the afternoon sky was fast turning to night. Rick glanced at Michonne.

 

"It's not bad," she said.

 

"Stuffy," Carl complained.

 

"Could be worse," Rick said.

 

The railcar was on the small side, but big enough for them. For shelter, it worked. They were dry and wouldn't have to sleep on the ground. Of course, he'd prefer a mattress or even a worn out sofa, but now that the downpour was starting to hit, he couldn't begrudge this box of stainless steel.

 

They slipped off their packs. Carl flipped on his small flashlight while Michonne searched her bag for the candles they found a day or so ago. Once she produced the round ball of wax, Rick knelt beside her with a lighter. Carl put his flashlight away as the flickering light illuminated the small corner of the car. Rick headed back to the open doorway as Carl removed cans of food from his bag.

 

Although he hadn't heard her approach, Rick knew that Michonne had followed him. She released a soft sigh as they watched the rain create a wall between them inside the car and the world outside of it. The metal roof pounded with a crazy drum riff. The idea of a heavy metal solo made Rick smile.

 

"What?" she asked softly.

 

He shook his head. "Nothing."

 

"No, c'mon," she said. "Give it up, Grimes."

 

He pointed. "What does that sound like?"

 

She frowned as she looked up. "Rain?"

 

"No, listen."

 

She shook her head. "I don't hear it."

 

He took a step toward her. He noticed that her eyes widened, but she didn't move. Anticipation coiled between them. Yearning crept over him. He swallowed hard. In a voice that he barely recognized, he said, "Close your eyes and just…listen."

Her dark eyes stared a few moments longer. It wasn't that she refused to obey, he decided. She was searching and he wasn't quite sure for what. He was on the verge of asking when she murmured, "Okay," and followed his bidding.

 

Rick had watched her sleep before, but this was different. Her eyes were closed and he knew that she was highly attuned to everything. Yet, without her questioning gaze locked on him, he had the freedom to enjoy her beauty. He wondered if she knew how stunning she was. So often, she used her features to enact a wall, but when she softened… God, she was a vision.

 

"Is it something specific?"

 

"Hmm?" he asked.

 

"The…thing?" She gestured with her hand, pointing toward the railcar's ceiling.

 

In his unrestrained perusal of her, he had forgotten his initial request. He scratched his temple. What was it? The rain? The roof? What?

 

"Rick?" she asked.

 

"You still don't hear it?" he asked. He remembered now. He wanted her to hear the beat.

 

"Sounds like rain beating the hell out of tin."

 

"Forget it," he said, humor in his tone.

 

She opened her eyes. A teasing light danced in the dark brown orbs. A grin played at her full lips. "Sorry."

 

"No, you're not."

 

She shook her head. "I'm not."

 

"Dinner's ready," Carl said.

 

They shared cans of beans, corn, and SPAM around the flickering candlelight. Laughter and conversation helped them ignore the cold meal and cooler air that the rainfall had produced. Afterward, the empty cans and wire created a makeshift alarm system for walkers. Rick offered no protest when Michonne volunteered for first watch. He wasn't surprised when his son insisted on sharing part of it with her. Happier times filled his dreams until the familiar groans awakened him.

 

Michonne stood near the opening with her katana in hand. He pulled his knife free of his belt and joined her.

 

"Can you tell how many?" he whispered.

 

"No," she said. "The moonlight isn't consistent. Clouds keep moving in and out."

 

"Maybe they'll keep going."

 

"That's why I didn't wake you or Carl," she said. "A couple came by first. I can't tell if something spooked this bunch or it's one of those random herds."

 

"Closing the door will make noise."

 

"Yep."

 

Rick sighed. Of course, she would have thought of that. He heard Carl roll over in his sleep. They hadn't had shelter like this since the two-story house. The hard floor of an old boxcar wasn't as good as the sofa at the house, but this was a damn sight better than sleeping out in the open. The nights they had camped outside none of them had gotten rest. He didn't want them to leave until morning, if then.

 

Minutes flowed like molasses. Either this was a big herd or he was impatient. Yet, he and Michonne remained vigilant and still. Finally, the last three shuffled by. He waited until more time had passed before he tried the door. It moved with effort. He didn't close the door all the way. There was enough room for air to circulate, but for nothing to come in without considerable disturbance. Once done, he told Michonne that he'd take over watch.

 

The next morning, they got an early start. The water tower was still the goal and Rick wanted to reach it by noon. He abstained from the day's debate of She-Hulk vs. Wonder Woman and simply enjoyed listening to the sounds of their banter. Little mud clung to the tracks. Even as the sun crept higher, a chill lingered in the air.

 

Rick shrugged off his jacket and extended it to Michonne. "You should put this on."

 

She took the coat and handed it to Carl. "Put this on."

 

"I'm good," the boy said. "You're only wearing a shirt."

 

"I'm fine. You should wear it."

 

"You've been shivering all morning," Rick said. "Wear it."

 

"But Carl—"

 

"He's wearing two shirts," Rick said.

 

"You're only in the t-shirt," she argued.

 

"Yeah, the brisk air feels good," he said. "Wear the jacket, Michonne."

 

She stopped and they did, too. Carl held her bags and katana while slid the jacket on. They waited for her to adjust her weapon and bags around the new attire before they started back on the tracks.

 

"Just until we get to town. I'll find my own jacket," she said. "You'll get this back."

 

"I know."

 

Another hour of walking and the first stretch of abandoned buildings appeared. They left the rail tracks to follow the muddy road into town. Rick half expected tumbleweeds to blow down the street. When he was a kid, he used to daydream about ghost towns. It was hard to believe that this was now his reality.

 

Some of the stores had been heavily looted, but they managed to salvage more necessary supplies such as toothpaste, toothbrushes, deodorant, and soap. In a bar, they found pretzels, pickled wieners, and water. Carl pointed out a store that had a faded advertisement for clothes on the door. Shadows moved past the window.

 

"Gotta stock up for winter," Rick said, slipping his knife from his belt.

 

"Let's do it." Michonne had her katana ready.

 

"Okay," Carl said with his gun in hand.

 

Rick took point. A glance into the window revealed that clothes and shoes hadn't been completely looted. Walkers wandered aimlessly until they noticed them at the door. Michonne dropped her bag and indicated that she'd go around back. Carl stayed with Rick and the two went in.

 

The trio's practiced teamwork enabled them to make quick, clean sweep of the cluster of walkers. Michonne was just slicing the heads of the last two when a side door opened and a couple of humans joined the fray. She almost sliced them but she caught herself in time.

 

"Hey!" A bald man raised his bat in defense.

 

Rick and Carl cocked their guns. "Don't," Rick said. "Put it down."

 

"Aaron, listen to 'em," the other man with short dark hair spoke up. "We're good."

 

Michonne moved to stand near Rick and Carl. No one put the weapons away.

 

"For shit's sake, we should be fighting the living dead, not each other. I'm Lee. That's Aaron. I guess he think he's Hank Aaron, but without the permanent tan."

 

Rick waited for Aaron to lower the bat before he holstered his gun. Michonne grabbed her bag from outside and began looking through the clothing racks. Carl remained at her side. Rick maintained his position closer to the two strangers. He took note of how the men watched them. He knew they were trying to understand their relationship.

 

"We were looking for winter gear and got ambushed," Aaron said. "Fought 'em off real good until they backed us into the storeroom. Then y'all showed up."

 

"Good thing, too," Lee added. "Didn't want to be stuck in there all night. Usually with them one becomes two…two becomes five. You know what I mean."

 

"Yeah," Rick said.

 

"Y'all took 'em out, no joke," Aaron said. "That sword is serious business."

 

"Whose she?" Lee asked, his gaze following the shopping pair until he focused on Rick.

 

"Michonne. I'm Rick. That's Carl."

 

Aaron shook his head. "Nah, is she yours?"

 

Rick nodded, his jaw set. "She's mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Thanks for the awesome response! The reviews, follows, and kudos are appreciated. I'll warn you now that there may be a few intentional inconsistencies (i.e. the compass) but bear with me and I hope you'll enjoy the journey anyway. If you read my GH fics, you may recognize a few names and yep, they're coming along for the ride. They won't completely inhabit their GH personas. He's not a prince in this one, but he'll still be a fantastic, wonderful guy. lol! This chapter needed to cover a lot so it was longer than usual. I hope that future chapters won't be. And to make sure that I stick to that, future chapters will be written according to couple. Richonne will have a chapter. Dasha will have a chapter. There may be a few times where I'll combine the happenings like in the first two chapters, but starting with Part 3, to keep the page numbers down, the chapters will be group specific. As always, thanks for reading and I truly enjoy hearing from you. Please feel free to comment, review, etc. The October 12th countdown continues…]


	3. Greetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Thanks again for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, kudoing, etc! Your responses have been energizing. You rock. The interest in Dasha has been especially motivating. I'm mostly a diehard Richonne shipper with a little Dixonne to keep it interesting, but Dasha is really starting to tug at me. Your enthusiasm has been fantastic! Here's the first of the "couple's only" chapters I warned you about. I hope it works for you, cuz it's working for me even though this was way longer than I expected! Lol Your feedback is always appreciated, so feel free to let me know what you think. I try to respond to reviews, so don't be surprised if you receive a message from me soon. Richonne is in the next one… The countdown to October 12th continues… Have a safe and fun Labor Day weekend!]

Sasha maintained a ready grip on the stick and wished again for more ammo. The loud squealing and grunting of the boar as it protested its capture put her on edge. Why walkers hadn't pounced was beyond her. She noticed the frown wrinkling Daryl's brow as they followed Lorenzo into the thicket. The veins in Daryl's hand bulged with his tight hold on his crossbow. Whenever she tried to move closer, he shook his head and blocked her. She wasn't sure what happened after the prison went to hell, but she couldn't remember him ever being this protective before. Maybe of baby Judith or of Carl, but not anyone else. Not even Carol.

 

They reached the trap and found Clay struggling with the wiggling beast. Sasha wouldn't say the boar was huge, but dinner would be good that night. Lorenzo moved in, but the animal's snapping snout made him rear back.

 

"For fuck's sake," Daryl muttered. He tugged his knife free of his belt and charged the boar. Blood squirted from the animal's slit throat. Daryl wiped the knife clean on his pants and returned it to his belt.

 

"I was gonna do it," Clay said.

 

"When?" Daryl asked. "Before or after the walkers come. The squealing's enough to draw 'em."

 

"But—"

 

"C'mon on, Clay," Lorenzo said. "He's right. No use whining like a girl. 'Scuse me, Sasha."

 

She shrugged. "No harm."

 

Lorenzo untied the rope from around his waist and knelt beside the boar. He and Clay removed the animal from the trap and began trussing the legs. While they worked, Lorenzo spoke to Daryl.

 

"You ever butcher one of these?"

 

"Sure," Daryl said. "Ain't nothin' to it."

 

"Up for helping with this one?" Lorenzo asked.

 

Daryl glanced at Sasha. She nodded. If he declined food and their offer of shelter, she'd hurt him. Later, she would have a word about his need for ownership. For the time being, she was all for them checking this group out and seeing what they had to offer.

 

"No problem," Daryl said.

 

Lorenzo nodded his approval. Clay grunted. Sasha had a feeling he wasn't as excited about their addition as his companion, but she didn't care. The two men lifted the boar and headed out. This time, Daryl slowed his steps to walk beside her. The two remained in their sight, but not close enough to hear their conversation.

 

"What?" she asked.

 

"Don't be so eager," Daryl said.

 

"I'm not being eager," she snapped. "I'm hungry. Aren't you starving?"

 

"I can get ya somethin' to eat," he countered. "We ain't gotta go with 'em."

 

"They have shelter. There's safety in numbers."

 

"We don't know nothin' about 'em. Stay close to me."

 

"Daryl."

 

"What?" he asked.

 

"About this… _I'm yours_ business…what the hell is that?"

 

He had been glancing at her while they chatted, but now he kept his gaze on the path ahead. Red colored his cheeks and it was a shade darker than the burn left by the sun. He mumbled something and Sasha strained to make out the words. She couldn't so she grabbed his arm.

 

"Say what?"

 

"Clay ain't lookin' at ya right," Daryl said.

 

"I can protect myself," she said.

 

"Against how many?"

 

Sasha frowned. She hadn't considered that. Lorenzo mentioned two more men, but what if there were more. Would allowing them to believe that she was Daryl's be enough to keep a group of men off her?

 

"Huh, Sasha?"

 

"I didn't say anything," she said quietly.

 

The men led them to two parked RV's and a pond. The camp had a simple fence of barbed wire and empty cans stretched around the perimeter. A teen boy with dark brown curls sat on the back of a flatbed truck. He was busy with something. Upon their approach, he yelled, "Mama, they're back!"

 

A young brown-skinned woman with two thick shoulder-length braids stepped from the second RV. "Your dad?"

 

"No," the boy said, as he slid from the truck. "Uncle and Clay."

 

He ran to meet the men carrying the boar, but stopped short when he noticed Sasha and Daryl. He moved close to Lorenzo and his rough whisper carried as he asked, "Who's that?"

 

"Daryl and Sasha, c'mere and meet my nephew," Lorenzo said. "That pretty woman over there is his mama, Dawn. I was telling you about her. Daryl, where's the best place to do this?"

 

"Close to the lake," Daryl said.

 

Lorenzo and Clay set the boar down a few feet from the water's edge. By then, Dawn had moved closer. She carried an ax in her right hand. A handgun was nestled snug in the waistband of her khaki pants.

 

"Lorenzo?" she asked. Her gaze danced between the two small groups.

 

"That's Daryl and Sasha," he said. "Nik back, yet?"

 

She frowned. "No."

 

"They're okay," Lorenzo said. "Daryl's gonna help with the boar. You and Sasha can get acquainted. Maybe help her set up their spot."

 

Daryl nodded once at Sasha and they parted. He joined the men to butcher the boar. She moved closer to Dawn. Sasha recognized the wariness in Dawn's expression and didn't begrudge the other woman for it. She had every right to be concerned. Sasha would in her place.

 

"Dominik!" Dawn called.

 

"I'm going with Uncle," he half-whined.

 

"No, you're finishing your task. Then you can go with him."

 

The irritated sigh was the boy's only protest. He walked past Sasha and climbed onto the back of the truck. Dawn extended her hand to Sasha.

 

"Hi. Welcome to our camp."

 

"Thanks," Sasha said.

 

They fell into step together. The small gathering reminded Sasha of the groups that she and Tyrese had met along the way. Eventually, they were all lost. Now she didn't know if her brother was alive or dead. She pushed the thought away. Facing that now was too soon. With strength of will, she forced herself to listen to Dawn's explanation of the camp's setup.

 

"That one," she said, pointing to the RV closest to the pond, "is Clay and Nash's. My family stays in the other one. The truck is Lorenzo's. Nik, my husband, took our Explorer on a run for supplies. He and Nash should return soon."

 

Sasha nodded, pretending not to hear the quiver of uncertainty in the other woman's voice at the mention of her husband's return.

 

"Daryl and I were really just passing through—"

 

"You have a camp nearby?"

 

Sasha looked at the ground and shook her head.

 

"We won't run you off," Dawn said. "Lorenzo wouldn't have let you come if he thought you weren't right. He's good at reading people. I am, too."

 

"Have y'all been here long?"

 

"What's long?" Dawn asked, shrugging. "I can't even remember anymore. I suppose it's been a few weeks. We were with a larger group, but a herd came through… We found the RVs along the way. Met up with Clay and Nash around the same time."

 

"Are they okay?"

 

"Your man may have to have a word with 'em," Dawn said.

 

"My ma—Yeah, Daryl is…um…" Sasha paused at the door to Dawn's RV. "Why? With both of them?"

 

"You see them and think they're not into us, right? We're black women. We wouldn't be what two good ol' boys are looking for even with the world going to shit," Dawn said, "but looks are deceiving. Clay likes to look, but I'm not sure about Nash."

 

"Why are you staying with them?"

 

"Safety in numbers. At night, they go their way and we go ours."

 

"Maybe it would be better if Daryl and I cut out now," Sasha mumbled to herself.

 

"I didn't say any of that to scare you." Dawn touched Sasha's shoulder. "Your man looks as protective as mine."

 

"How can you tell?"

 

"He's been watching us as much as he's been working on that boar," Dawn said with a smile. "Reminds me of Nik. Greedy eyes."

 

Sasha looked past Dawn to find Daryl's stare locked on her. From this distance, she couldn't get a clear read of his face, but knowing that he cared enough to keep her in his sights set her at ease.

 

$%^&

 

Daryl found Lorenzo to be an attentive student, but Clay was easily distracted. It wasn't hard to figure that Clay was beside himself watching the two women. Daryl sensed that Lorenzo wasn't oblivious to the other man's interest so Daryl decided to play cool, too. Still, he was prepared. His crossbow was within reach as was his knife.

 

He taught them how to skin and gut the boar. The boy appeared at his uncle's side. His bony elbow rested on the older man's shoulder. The affection between the two was apparent. Daryl can't remember ever having a moment like that in his life.

 

"You finish?" Lorenzo asked.

 

"Yes, sir," Dominick said. "Report's done. I hope Mama grades this one."

 

Lorenzo chuckled. "Nik wants you to get it right."

 

"Yeah…can I help?"

 

"You good where ya are," Daryl said. "If you got a pit dug, we can roast 'em over it."

 

Lorenzo nudged his nephew. "Let's get to it. What else?"

 

"A branch to drive through 'em."

 

Lorenzo looked at Clay. "Can you get that?"

 

"Who made you boss man?" Clay griped.

 

"Man, c'mon." Lorenzo waited for Clay to start his search. "Get started, Dom. I'll be there in a sec."

 

Daryl busied himself burying the non-edible parts of the boar. He sensed Lorenzo had something on his mind. Now, that the hard work was done, Daryl wondered if the offer of camp would be taken back. Just as he was starting to get riled at the thought, Lorenzo spoke.

 

"He could be harmless, but we don't ever leave Dawn alone with either of them. Dominick's young, but he's fast with a gun and confident with a blade."

 

Daryl stood to face Lorenzo. "I ain't gon' try nothin'. If you think that, Sasha and me'll leave now."

 

"Not you," Lorenzo said. "I'm talking about Clay and Nash. They haven't tried anything, but you know how men can be when there're only one or two women around. Nik would kill them if they touched Dawn. I would, too. I'd be quick. Nik wouldn't."

 

"Nik's your brother?"

 

Lorenzo nodded. "Yeah."

 

Daryl didn't want to think about Merle so he focused on the matter at hand. "Reckon Sasha and me staying is a good idea?"

 

"I don't see why not," Lorenzo said. "Clay and Nash pretend to be great outdoorsmen, but it's clear they don't know shit. My brother and I grew up in the city. We went camping, but nothing prepared us for this. We're good at fish. Setting the trap today was luck. We figured we'd gut the boar same as the fish. Good thing you came along."

 

Daryl agreed. He helped them ready the pit. He noticed how Lorenzo was patient with his nephew and the boy hung on his every word. Losing the prison, his family there, and then Beth had made Daryl feel as if the walls were closing in again. Sasha's arrival helped him breathe. Talking with Lorenzo brought thoughts of Rick to mind, and Dominick and Carl were around the same age. He walked to the edge of the lake and dipped his hands in. Everything had happened so fast, but he didn't want to believe that Rick and Carl were dead. He would rather not think about them at all.

 

"Hey." Sasha knelt beside him. "Dawn's got us set up with digs for tonight."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"In her family's SUV when her husband returns. It won't be much, but at least we'll be covered."

 

"Sounds good," he said. "Those clouds promise hell later. I don't want us in it."

 

"Me either," she said. "Daryl…you okay?"

 

He nodded.

 

"This big enough?" Clay asked, appearing suddenly to wave a branch in front of them.

 

Daryl rose fast and moved even faster to stand between the man and Sasha. "See if it's longer than the boar."

 

Clay smiled at Sasha. "We having meat tonight. When's the last time you had meat?"

 

Sasha closed her hands around Daryl's arm. "Last night. It was delicious."

 

Clay's smile faltered. His mouth drew into a tight, thin line. He left them to tend to the boar.

 

Daryl closed his hand over Sasha's. "You better go back to the RV."

 

"I'm not scared of—"

 

"Just do it."

 

Her insinuation made Daryl uneasy. After his musings about her tongue and mouth, he felt like a hypocrite. He killed a squirrel for their dinner. She made it sound as if he'd given her something else. Daryl rubbed his chin. This could get out of control real fast if Sasha caught wind of his daydreaming. She'd think he was no better than Clay and his damn drooling like a fool. Daryl was on the verge of cursing himself when a Ford Explorer rolled in.

 

Lorenzo and his family crowded the driver's door. The dark haired man who exited pulled Dawn into a hug and then the boy. Lorenzo came after. Clay stopped fumbling with the branch and the boar to greet the other man. Daryl turned away from the homecoming to prep the animal for the pit.

 

The branch worked through the boar with little difficulty. Daryl saw that Lorenzo and Dominick had done a good job of prepping the pit. He set the boar in place and dusted his hands off on his jeans. He headed toward the group, relieved when Sasha joined him. Lorenzo made introductions.

 

"This is my brother Nik," Lorenzo said. "That's Nash. Meet Daryl and Sasha."

 

"Hello." Nik extended his hand to both of them.

 

Nash stood beside Clay and didn't say anything.

 

"My son says you prepared the boar. Thanks. We're good with fish, but that's about it."

 

"Hey, we caught the sumbitch," Clay muttered. "That trap worked."

 

Nik nodded. "When we all work together, it all works out."

 

"They're gonna sleep in the SUV tonight," Dawn told Nik. "Did you find everything?"

 

Nik smiled at her and took her hand. "Let's see."

 

Daryl and Sasha hung back. Daryl still felt uneasy. Sleeping in the SUV would keep the rain off them, but she would be so close. Maybe he'd take the front seat and she'd get the back. That could work.

 

"He seems cool like Lorenzo," Sasha said.

 

"We'll see."

 

"His wife and kid like him," she said.

 

Daryl nodded. "Yeah."

 

She released a loud sigh and shook her head. "Is there no pleasing you?"

 

"It ain't him I'm worried about."

 

"Maybe you're worried over nothing," she said. "We'll have food and somewhere to sleep. Can't that be good enough?"

 

"I don't remember ya bein' this optimistic before."

 

"Who says I'm being optimistic?" Sasha countered. "Maybe I'm being realistic."

 

Daryl regarded the scuffmarks on his boots. The grass under his shoes was a pretty shade of green. The smell of roasting meat made his mouth water and his stomach grumble. None of those observations were enough to make him unaware of the fuming woman at his side.

 

"Sometimes, I don't get you."

 

"What's to get?" he muttered.

 

"Nothing, I guess."

 

"Sasha!" Dawn beckoned.

 

The rear tailgate of the SUV was open. A few items spilled out, but the haul was nothing like the goods Daryl and his teams used to grab for the prison. He remained quiet as he sauntered behind Sasha's stalking form. Although her rear wasn't nearly as shapely as Michonne's, it was more than a handful. Even angry, she walked with purpose and moved her body with precision. That was one of the reasons he didn't mind going on runs with her. Sasha didn't waste movement. Nor did she waste words. Daryl knew that sooner or later, she'd give him an earful. He hoped when the time arrived, he'd have the right answers for her. Or maybe a good lie.


	4. Acknowledgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michonne and the Grimes men consider their options when threats become real. Meanwhile, moves are made; feelings are more or less acknowledged.

Rick wanted to lose Lee and Aaron, but the two men seemed hellbent on sticking with them. After leaving the clothing store, the group of five headed across the street to the pharmacy. The drug store had been picked over, but Rick recognized that Michonne had a keen eye. He stayed close to her while paying attention to Carl and the other men.

 

"What gives?" Michonne asked. They were in the ransacked section of feminine hygiene products. She didn't seem impressed with the display and Rick was trying his best to appear disinterested in her selections.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You haven't guarded me this closely since I first arrived," she said. "Afraid I'm gonna steal something?"

 

Rick's pulse quickened at her teasing tone, but the concern in her dark eyes made him pause. "Not exactly."

 

"Hmm?" She stuffed the last boxes of Pamprin and Midol into her bag. She'd already snagged the remaining supply of tampons. When she was done, she gave Rick her full attention. "What exactly?"

 

"It may not be anything."

 

"You must think it's something or you wouldn't be all over me," she said.

 

"I'm not… _all_ …over you." He frowned. He looked away to see that the men had separated. Lee was digging through the items on the far wall while Aaron slipped into the back where the stronger medication had been kept. Carl was busy loading his pack with stuff Rick couldn't identify from the distance that separated them.

 

"What gives, Rick?" Michonne touched his arm.

 

"We need to cut the cord," he said in a low voice.

 

She nodded. "They seem taken with you."

 

"Not me," he said, giving her a pointed look.

 

"Me?" she mouthed.

 

"I told 'em you're mine."

 

Her eyes widened, but the outcry he anticipated didn't come. Instead, her dark brown eyes danced and a faint smile played at the corners of her full lips. Rick was reminded again of numerous fantasies where he didn't wonder how his mouth felt on hers. In those fantasies, he knew the softness of her lips and how her moans vibrated inside him when he held her. Some of his thoughts might have played on his face because Michonne's breath quickened. The air between them charged with the things they hadn't found the courage or the time to say.

 

A mumbled curse from one of the men startled them. They both looked away to find the culprit. Lee had dropped a bottle of pills onto the floor. He kicked the broken pieces with his shoe.

 

"Did that settle it?" Michonne asked.

 

"What? Huh?" Rick asked.

 

"You claiming me like…stock on an auct—"

 

"It wasn't like that," he cut in quickly. "They weren't looking at you right and I'll be damned if anyone hurts you. Ain't nobody hurting you or Carl."

 

"I can take care of myself."

 

"I know," he said, nodding. "We're all together now. We take care of each other."

 

"You didn't have to say I was yours."

 

He met her stare. "No, I didn't have to."

 

"You could've—"

 

"It was the best way to make it clear, Michonne." He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have told her, but he promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn't hold anything back from her. She had a right to know what he'd said.

 

"Rick?"

 

He pulled his hand from his face to meet her steady gaze.

 

For a moment, she didn't say anything. Rick began to wonder if he'd imagined her saying his name. His time of hallucination had been long behind him. With Michonne, reality was the preference. Everything about her was vivid. She held mysteries, for sure, but he never felt clearer than in her presence. Even now when the memories of being a love-struck boy in junior high were dogging him like hell.

 

"Thanks."

 

His mouth twitched, and he couldn't stop the grin that followed. "My pleasure."

 

She responded with a faint shake of her head, but there was no negativity in the gesture. Rick had a strong feeling that had they been alone a more fulfilling outcome would have been a strong possibility. Still to keep his promise, he needed to keep his wits about him.

 

He followed her to the next aisle. They grabbed the remainder of the pain relievers and stuffed them into Rick's knapsack. Michonne giggled as she tossed a can of shaving cream at him. A moment later, his reflexes kicked in as he caught a packet of Bic razors. He remembered the razor she'd given him before the prison fell and her comment that his face was losing the war. He wondered if this was a hint and that she preferred clean-shaven men. By the time the thought to read her expression for answers came to mind, she'd turned away and was now headed toward Carl. Rick added the items to his bag while resisting the urge to rub his beard. The thing did itch and if he trimmed it down, he'd do so because of the itching. Not because he was trying to…

 

_Good grief,_ he thought. Michonne was flirting with him in her coy way and he knew damn well he'd trim his beard and he'd enjoy every second of it.

 

"Dad, look." Carl held two bags of cough lozenges. "Some of them are stuck together, but they're edible."

 

"Not bad," Rick said. "We should save them just in case, though. Find anything else good?"

 

"More toothpaste and deodorant."

 

"Thank God," Michonne said.

 

Carl laughed.

 

Michonne nudged Rick. "Now, may be a good time."

 

Rick followed her gaze. Lee had joined Aaron in the back. Whatever meds that had been left behind had captured their attention. Rick nodded in agreement. He pressed a finger to his mouth and pointed for Carl and Michonne to precede him out the door. The trio moved as one to exit the store. Once outside, they broke into a run until they reached the end of the block.

 

They rounded the corner and came upon a couple of walkers. Michonne beheaded them with a swipe of her katana. Without any words passing between them, they jogged to another block, which led to a neighborhood of row houses. Most had broken windows and missing doors. They paused on the back porch of one of the lesser-damaged homes to discuss their options.

 

"Think we lost 'em?" Carl asked.

 

"Maybe," Rick said.

 

"Are we staying low for awhile and waiting them out?" Michonne asked.

 

Rick frowned. During their impromptu escape, he'd been listening for the sound of the men's pursuit. He wasn't sure that the men hadn't given up the chase. Lee and Aaron had been so determined to stick with them before. Rick didn't trust that the two men would pass the opportunity that a beautiful woman like Michonne presented. He doubted if they truly saw him or Carl as a threat.

 

Rick regarded Michonne's stance. The katana was ready in her hands. She had no qualms about killing the dead or the living. There were times, though, that the guilt of almost giving her up ate at him. He wouldn't put her in danger ever again. Although he knew she was a fighter, he needed her to understand he would fight for her and beside her, but she'd never have to face a battle alone again. Not while he still drew breath.

 

"Well?" she asked.

 

"They could have a group waiting for 'em," Rick said.

 

"We could stay here tonight and set traps for them if they come at us," Carl suggested.

 

Michonne nodded.

 

"Sounds like a plan," Rick said.

 

$%^&

 

The row house proved to be a valuable find. The cabinets contained the treasure of two unopened jars of peanut butter, five cans of sardines, a sealed jar of spaghetti sauce, and a tin of fruitcake. After that discovery, Michonne put Carl on treasure hunt duty while she and Rick set about setting booby traps on the front and back entrances. The windows had been nailed shut and then covered with planks of wood. In the end, their traps weren't nearly as elaborate as those of Rick's friend, Morgan, but they would be enough to startle the men and give the Grimes men and Michonne a warning.

 

They chose the dining room to set up camp. Rick and Carl braced the dining table against the back door. They carried the curio cabinet to the front room and used it to block the front door. After they were done, they joined Michonne on the floor. A couple of lit candles provided enough light for them to enjoy their meal of sardines ala marinara. They decided to save the peanut butter and fruitcake for the road.

 

"Not…bad," Rick said, pouring a little more sauce into his sardine tin.

 

"It's gourmet," Michonne said.

 

"That it is," he agreed.

 

Michonne warmed from the way Rick smiled at her. Deep down she knew that his verbal claim of ownership should have pissed her off. In another time and different circumstances, her response would have been outright rage instead of amusement and the growing spark of awareness that continued to flare between them. Sure, for a moment, the idea that he claimed her annoyed her. For a second, the urge to strike swept through her, but the intensity in his blue eyes and the conviction in his voice quelled her initial instinct. Rick meant her no harm. Besides, she didn't mind his hovering. Having him close was soothing, kinda like wearing his jacket.

 

"I'll take first watch," Rick said. He gathered their empty sardine tins and stood.

 

"I can help, too, Dad."

 

"I got it. Get some rest."

 

"It's not fair," Carl said, "if you and Michonne do all the watches. We need to share. I'll go first. You and Michonne can decide who takes next." He took the tins from his father and headed to the back room.

 

Michonne regarded Rick. He stood where Carl had left him. A dumbfounded expression marked his handsome face. He scratched his beard and looked down at her.

 

"Well," he said.

 

"Have a seat."

 

She sat cross-legged against the wall. Her new jacket was wrapped snug around her. She hadn't unrolled the blankets they'd taken from the store, but she had a mind to. A chill was creeping through the slats of the floorboards. Her jeans weren't thick enough to block the cold, but she didn't dare suggest starting a fire in the fireplace. Although they hadn't heard anything from Lee and Aaron since they left them in the pharmacy, Michonne didn't take for granted that the men had left the vicinity.

 

Rick returned to the floor. He claimed Carl's spot beside her and sat closer than he needed to. When she didn't move, he scooted another inch toward her. Michonne gazed at the flickering flame of the candle, half-afraid that acknowledging Rick would spook him and send him scooting in the other direction.

 

"I'll go next," he murmured in his distinctive drawl.

 

"And then forget to wake me for my turn?" She tilted her head as she questioned him.

 

He fixed her with a slow, lazy smile. "Would I do that?"

 

"Yes, I think you would."

 

He shrugged. His non-verbal answer revealed more than enough.

 

"You need rest, too," she said.

 

Rick frowned. "I'm better. Not nearly as sore as I was."

 

"Yeah," she said, "but you're still healing. You can't heal properly without proper rest."

 

"Where'd you get that from?" he asked.

 

She drew her knees to her chest and hugged tight. "Hershel."

 

A solemn vibe came upon them. Rick nodded. To her surprise, he extended his hand, palm up. More surprises came when she accepted the invitation. He laced his fingers through hers, applying gentle squeezes now and then. Michonne pondered that this was Rick's offer of comfort for their shared grief over a fallen friend.

 

They sat close for minutes longer than Michonne could count. If Carl noticed as he made periodical rounds past them that his father held her hand, he didn't let on. After awhile Rick became so still and his breathing so even that she believed he was asleep. She lowered her legs and forced her mind to think of nothing. Just as her mind drifted to the state of emptiness, the faint caress of Rick's thumb against her palm reawakened her senses. A tremble that refused to be contained claimed her from head to toe. He shifted again until his arm brushed her shoulder.

 

Michonne knew that acknowledging his proximity could change everything. Fear had driven her after losing Mike and Andre. She'd believed that becoming a monster was better than allowing anyone in, but finding Andrea made her question that belief. Then Carl tugged at her, Daryl, Herschel, and Rick. If she was honest, she'd admit that pull to Rick was different. He made her feel… _different_. He made her want… _things_.

 

She turned her head and discovered that he'd been watching her. But the question she normally read in his blue eyes was gone. Michonne saw calm assurance and conviction. He cocked his head a bit as if to ask if she was in agreement. Her response was interrupted by voices from the other side of the wall.

 

Rick pressed a finger to his mouth. She nodded.

 

"We're wasting time out here, man."

 

"I don't think they headed back to the woods," the other man said. "They ran this way."

 

"They could've doubled back. It's been over an hour."

 

"Shit, Aaron," Lee said. "Stop being such a little bitch."

 

"Not liking the dark doesn't make me a bitch," Aaron said. "Just cautious."

 

"Her ass alone will get Sherri off our case," Lee said.

 

"Her mouth."

 

"Man, she'd be good for the best trades," Aaron said. "The tops."

 

"Maybe she's too good for Sherri."

 

"Think we should keep her," Lee said. "See what we could get without the middleman."

 

"After we take a few samples."

 

"Fuck yeah."

 

Their voices became muffled as they moved away. Rick's grip on her hand had tightened as the men's conversation progressed. The scuff of Carl's boots on the hardwood floor broke them from their silence. Michonne pulled free of Rick's hand and stood. The hatred on Carl's face left her immobile.

 

"We have to go after them," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

 

Rick rose from the floor. One hand rested on his gun that hung from his gun belt. The other hand clenched at his side. His breathing had become heavy. "Carl—"

 

"No, Dad," Carl said. "They were talking about Michonne… No. If you won't, I'll do it myself."

 

He stormed toward the door. Michonne and Rick reached him at the same time. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and drew him close.

 

"No, Carl. Not like this. For all we know, they'd take you, too."

 

"They don't know where we are," Rick said. "We'll let them go."

 

"But the things they said…"

 

"Ssh." Michonne squeezed his shoulder. "They'll never catch me."

 

"Damn right," Carl said. "I'll kill them first."

 

"Carl!" Rick stared at his son.

 

"Thank you for wanting to defend my honor," Michonne said, cutting in before an argument erupted between father and son. She understood both, maybe better than they understood each other. "Thank you, Carl, but your dad is right. It's dark out there. We have shelter. If we run into them later, we'll see what happens."

 

"They'll make a play for you," Carl said.

 

"Then we'll take them out," Rick said. "Get some rest. My watch now. Michonne, you too."

 

Carl looked ready to protest, but after a brief Grimes standoff, he trudged to his bedroll and lay down. Once he was settled, Rick took her hand and pulled her into the front room.

 

A bit of moonlight peeked through the boards that covered the windows. Michonne's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and she noticed the shadows that darkened his face.

 

"We'll be fine here tonight," she whispered.

 

He nodded. "It's not that."

 

She waited in silence for him to elaborate. Minutes ticked away as he simply stared at her. Then he released her hand to take hold of her face. With surprising gentleness, he caressed the swell of her cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. His light touch made his callouses unnoticeable. She reminded herself to breathe, but the anticipation was unbearable.

 

"I'm going to kiss you," he said in a gruff whisper.

 

"I know."

 

Michonne clutched the opening of his jacket just as he bent forward and claimed her mouth. The initial contact was tentative. His beard tickled her soft skin. The hairs weren't as bristly as she had imagined. She felt his smile and tasted the sweet marinara on his breath. Then he leaned in again, more aggressive than before. His tongue teased her lips until they parted. As the kiss deepened, time and place lost meaning. She had wondered if this moment would ever come. Now that it had, she savored every second. When the kiss ended, she pressed a hand to her mouth and stepped back.

 

"Michonne?" he whispered.

 

"I'm okay."

 

"Sure?" His eyes narrowed.

 

"Yeah." She turned to go join Carl in the dining room.

 

"Michonne?" Rick whispered again.

 

She swung around to face him. "Yeah?"

 

"I meant that."

 

She nodded, smiling. "I know. I meant it, too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: As always, thanks for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, dropping kudos, etc. There's a slight delay for the trio's trip to Terminus and here's the warning that Lee and Aaron just may pop up again. What can we say about Rick Grimes? He's not the playa Shane Walsh was, but maybe he's got a little game. Maybe? Thoughts? Next chapter, Daryl and Sasha and the chapter after that, I hope to switch it up again with all 4. We'll see. Your feedback is always appreciated, so keep it coming!]


	5. Scarred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Sasha adjust to the new camp and to their pretend roles as a couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: First and foremost, thanks for the amazing response to Part 4. Thank you doesn't seem adequate, but that's the best I can come up with right now. Welcome to the new readers and always a huge thanks to everyone for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, and dropping kudos. Grad school and a mega dose of other responsibilities conflict with my fic writing and me being able to respond to individual comments, but please know that I read everything and I appreciate your feedback. Keep it coming. Hearing your thoughts is motivating in the best way. Anyway, here's the Dasha-centric chapter. Part 6 will be a mix of Richonne and Dasha. They're not crossing paths just yet, but know that it should happen eventually. Still not sure how Terminus will play. With only 2 weeks to go until the new season starts maybe inspiration will strike. As always, your feedback will be a treasured gift especially in regards to the later half of the chapter. ☺ Oh, and this is a long one—sorry!!—the next one will probably be, too.]

_The friendliness of the group seemed genuine enough_ , Daryl thought. Nik Cassidy and his family appeared eager to include Daryl and Sasha. Dinner around the campfire was filled with stories. Not just of survival but of what the Cassidy family valued. Daryl noticed how Nik often nodded toward Sasha when he directed his comments to Daryl. The assumption of their relationship had been easy. She stayed close and didn't seem in any hurry to correct the idea that she wasn't his or vice versa. Once or twice, Daryl caught Nash sizing them up. As if he wasn't convinced of their ruse. Then, Daryl dug deep to overcome his insecurities. He'd touch Sasha's arm or let his hand linger on her thigh. This familiarity with her body was odd, but he promised himself to do whatever to keep her safe. He aimed to keep his word no matter how uncomfortable the actions made him.

 

After they'd consumed as much of the roasted boar as their stomachs could tolerate, Lorenzo and Dominick took the remains off the spit. Nik gestured for Daryl to follow. Dawn and Sasha disappeared inside the RV. Clay and Nash headed into the woods to relieve themselves.

 

"Have you decided, yet?" Nik asked, leaning against the back of the Explorer.

 

"On what?" Daryl shouldered his crossbow. He glanced at the RV door. It was open. The voices of the women filtered out. They sounded pleasant.

 

"Staying or going," Nik answered. "You seemed unsure."

 

"Lorenzo told me 'bout Nash and Clay," Daryl said. "I ain't lookin' for trouble."

 

"Three against two aren't good odds," Nik said. "They won't bother your woman."

 

Daryl nodded. "She don't like me watchin' her or havin' to be protected from others in the camp."

 

"Dawn isn't thrilled with it either. The wife calls me a cave man," Nik confided with a faint smile. "The cousins are good on runs. Besides, leaving them doesn't seem right."

 

"Letting them hurt your wife ain't right either."

 

Nik's face grew tight. "They're not laying a hand on her."

 

Daryl nodded. Once again, his gaze was drawn to the RV. The waning sunlight and overhead clouds afforded him little advantage in seeing inside the vehicle. A few shadows, but that was all. Sasha seemed to get along well with Dawn. Like Lorenzo had said, the other woman appeared starved for female companionship. The Cassidy family would have been a good fit at the prison. He swallowed hard as the memories threatened to close in. The prison and everything it had been was gone. He had to let that go.

 

"They're okay in there," Nik said. "The only entrance is that door. Dawn's probably talking Sasha's ear off about the stuff I brought her."

 

The man's self-satisfied smirk made Daryl smile. With four of them in the RV, Daryl wondered when and where Nik planned to get his reward from his wife.

 

"Whatcha get?" Daryl asked.

 

"Hair stuff," Nik said, looking embarrassed. "And the usual." He pulled a box of condoms from his pocket. The box had seen better days and was torn on the corner. Nik handed the contraceptives to Daryl. "We have a stockpile, but I always grab more whenever I can find them. Let's get your digs set up before that rain comes in."

 

Daryl nodded to hide the flush he knew colored his face. Of course, condoms were a necessity. How many runs had he gone on with Glenn where that was the other man's only mission? Since the living went to war against the walkers, Daryl hadn't had a need for rubbers and couldn't truly recall the last time he needed them before then. He wasn't a ladies' man. Fucking was one thing, but the afters always made him feel weird and inadequate. The box of Trojans that he'd stuffed into his jacket pocket only reminded him of those feelings.

 

"Nash and I saw some signs on our way back to camp," Nik was saying as he and Daryl adjusted the rear seats of the SUV to lay flat. "'Those who arrive survive' or some shit like that."

 

"That sounds familiar," Daryl said.

 

"The place is called Terminus."

 

"What the hell kind of name is that?" Daryl asked. "Sounds like a fuckin' disease."

 

Nik laughed. "Yeah."

 

Lorenzo and Dominick arrived with the chopped remains of the boar divided into three large portions. They had wrapped the sections in plastic. Dominick handed one portion to Daryl.

 

"In case you and Sasha get hungry at night," the boy said. "It won't go to waste or attract gross ones."

 

"We call 'em walkers," Daryl said.

 

"Walkers?" Dominick asked.

 

"Walking dead," Daryl explained.

 

"That's a good one, huh Dad?" Dominick said to Nik.

 

"Yeah." Nik smiled at his son. "Take ours to your mom. Bring back some bedding. Hurry up. Those clouds are ready to pop."

 

As Dominick jogged off, Lorenzo asked, "What's up? You convince him to stay? You're the smooth talker in the family."

 

"I was working on it until you showed up," Nik said.

 

"What difference does it make if me and Sasha stick around or not?"

 

"Honestly?" Lorenzo asked.

 

Daryl frowned.

 

"Not that we would lie," Nik said with a jab to his brother's shoulder. "Look, it's simple. I haven't seen my wife this… _this_ animated in a while. I didn't know how much she missed having another woman to talk to. Besides, it can't be easy out there with just the two of you."

 

"I don't like those guys," Daryl said.

 

By now, the cousins had returned. Clay went inside their RV, but Nash headed toward the Explorer. When he reached them, Lorenzo handed him the remaining leftovers.

 

"Y'all gabbing like a bunch of women," Nash said. "You tell 'em about that safe haven?"

 

"What safe haven?" Lorenzo asked.

 

"The sign said Terminus," Nash said.

 

"Sounds like a fatal disease," Lorenzo replied.

 

Nik chuckled. "That's what Daryl said."

 

"I told Clay about it," Nash confided. "He thinks it could be a good thing. Better than sitting out here waiting for the next herd to come tearing through."

 

Nik asked, "You taking off?"

 

"We ain't made a decision, yet," Nash said. "I'd think you'd jump at the chance to protect your family."

 

"My family's always protected," Nik said with an uncompromising edge.

 

"Yo, newcomer," Nash said, staring at Daryl. "You and your girl headed that way?"

 

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he regarded the other man. This was the first time they'd had a direct conversation and Daryl wasn't exactly thrilled with the way the man referred to Sasha. There was something in his tone. It didn't sit well with Daryl.

 

"Why?" Daryl asked.

 

"Y'all could ride with us," Nash offered. His mouth curved into a smile, but the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. "Our RV's got plenty of room."

 

Daryl shook his head. "We're good."

 

"Suit yourself." Nash turned and walked away.

 

The two brothers stared at each other, and Daryl found himself studying the Cassidy men. They appeared close in age, but if he had to guess, he'd say that Nik was older, but only by a year or two. Their relationship was friendly. Nothing like what he'd had with Merle. If he were a betting man, he'd wager that Lorenzo's feelings for his sister-in-law weren't one hundred percent brotherly, but the man was too honorable to act on them. Daryl doubted if Nik was aware of it. This family unit was tight even with that small issue.

 

Dominick returned with sleeping bags, comforters, pillows, and flashlights. His mother and Sasha joined him and helped carry some of the items. Nik and Daryl finished prepping while the others stood back and watched. A few times, Daryl caught Sasha's eye. Every time she grinned at him, he shook his head. The urge to mumble something about women's work hung on the tip of his tongue, but he kept the teasing in check. He and Nik finished as the thunder rolled in the distance.

 

"I was hoping to get a bath tonight," Dawn said, pouting.

 

"Me too," Sasha added. "If we hurry, we could do it before the rain comes. We're right by a lake. There's a grove of trees right over there."

 

"Dawn," Nik said with a frown.

 

"Instead of saying no…" She smiled at him and looped her finger through his belt loop. "We'll be so fast."

 

"Ain't no way you and Sasha going over there by yourselves," Daryl said.

 

"He's right about that," Nik said. "Get your stuff. Hurry up. Daryl and I will stand watch, but you better hurry up or there'll be hell to pay."

 

"Promises, promises." Dawn kissed his cheek.

 

Nik laughed. "Hurry up."

 

"Come on, Sasha. I have soap, towels, and something you can change into. But Mr. Cassidy has spoken. We gotta hurry!"

 

Daryl watched the two women race back to the RV like a couple of teenagers. He swore he'd never seen this side of Sasha before. This version was carefree. She giggled. Even with her ever-present scowl, she had a pretty face, but now, she looked softer. He remembered how her expression changed right before she hugged him on the tracks. The hardness had melted away and only a soft, beautiful woman remained. It made him wonder what she'd been like before all this shit happened. Tyrese had joked that he couldn't remember a time when his little sister didn't boss him, but Daryl was seeing that there was more to Sasha than tough taskmaster.

 

She and Dawn returned with their supplies, and like dutiful companions, he and Nik followed with their weapons at the ready. Unlike before, Nik seemed more content to remain quiet. Daryl noticed how the other man's gaze focused on his wife and a faint smile never left his face. Daryl had never been in love like that or been loved like that. Watching the couple, he knew that they were committed. They were different than Glenn and Maggie. Although Dawn and Nik were young, they had an old-timers feel to them.

 

"I'm getting in," Nik confided as they waited for the women to disrobe behind the bushes and slip into the water. "What did you call them…walkers? They can't swim. Lorenzo's keeping an eye on Clay and Nash. You oughta get in, too."

 

"I'm good."

 

Nik gave him a questioning look. "You're passing up a bath with your woman? C'mon. Look at them. They can't have all the fun."

 

Daryl hated to admit the merit to Nik's argument. The women were neck deep in the water. Suds bubbled around them. Both sported grins wide enough to combat the clouds overhead. While Daryl worked out the pros and cons and enjoyed the beauty of Sasha's smile, Nik had undressed down to his underwear save for a few strategically strapped weapons and was knee-deep in the lake.

 

"C'mon, Daryl!" Dawn said, waving at him.

 

Daryl gripped his crossbow. He looked around but the landscape was clear. Free of walkers and free of assholes. Then his gaze drifted back to the people in the water. Nik and Dawn were engaged in a private conversation, and Sasha's focus was solely on Daryl. She simply nodded and beckoned with her hand.

 

"Come on."

 

$%^&

 

Sasha hadn't realized she was holding her breath until Dawn flicked water at her. The other woman, wrapped securely within her husband's embrace, treaded water and frolicked almost as if this was a typical outing with friends. In the short while since Sasha and Daryl had joined the group, Sasha had felt her misgivings give way. Sure, she kept an eye out on the cousins. Daryl was right. The guys had a way of looking at her and Dawn that made Sasha's skin crawl, but otherwise, the Cassidy family seemed like good people.

 

She ran the bar of soap along her arms again as she watched for Daryl. After the invitation to join them, he ducked into the bushes. Nik had thrown caution to the wind and dropped down to his undies in front of them, but Daryl wasn't one for exhibition. When he stepped out in his boxers and crossbow strapped to his back, Sasha had to remind herself not to stare. She'd done her private share of ogling his well-toned arms. She didn't know any woman at the prison who hadn't sighed at the sight of him in the sleeveless shirts. But to see him shirtless and in only a pair of boxers, too?

 

"Damn," Sasha murmured.

 

"You don't look at me like that anymore," Nik said in a loud grumble to Dawn. His wife nudged him and he kissed her.

 

Daryl hesitated at the water's edge. He stood near a large rock where Nik had tossed his clothes and shoes. "Might be better if I kept watch here."

 

"Those dead ones aren't coming in," Nik said. "Besides, I'm ready if they get too close." He pointed to his shoulder holster and the knife strapped to his waist with a band.

 

Daryl nodded. Although he'd removed most of his clothes, his crossbow was on his back and he still held his knife.

 

Sasha held up her stick. She'd left her rifle, leaning on the rock where Nik's clothes rested. "We'll protect you."

 

Daryl grunted. "Yeah right."

 

She laughed. "Come on already. You'll have a shower from the rain before too long."

 

"Stop ya fussing, woman," he muttered.

 

Sasha bit back a retort as he took tentative steps into the water. She had to admit that she'd seen Daryl dirty more than she'd ever seen him clean. Still she knew he bathed. They'd been on enough runs for her to know if B.O. was a serious problem, and it never had been. Despite the dirt, Daryl usually smelled fairly descent given the circumstances. To be honest, she'd gotten used to his scent and she kinda liked it. Sorta.

 

"Here." Dawn pushed her floating basket of shampoo and conditioner toward Sasha. "Use whatever you want. Nikky hooked me up on this last run. Everything is sulfate-free. I was this close to either shaving my head or figuring out how to do locs—"

 

"No," Nik said as he lathered a few feet away, "and no. No to both. I like your hair the way it is. I'll always find whatever you need. No shaving. No locs."

 

Dawn rolled her eyes, and Sasha laughed.

 

"What's so funny?" Daryl said from a short distance. He had waded in to chest high, but he was a short, respectful distance from Sasha.

 

"You men are hilarious," Dawn said. "Are you as opinionated as that one over there?"

 

"This one can hear you quite well," Nik said in a singsong voice.

 

The women laughed. Daryl's eyes narrowed as he asked, "Opinionated about what?"

 

"Hair," Dawn said.

 

"What about it?" He ran a hand through his and got his hair wet. This made the ends stick up. He frowned as he smoothed the hair back. "What's wrong with it?"

 

"Not yours," Sasha said. "Yours is fine."

 

"Ain't nothing wrong with yours," Daryl said.

 

"Good grief," Dawn said, "watch out, Sasha. That's how it starts."

 

Sasha chuckled.

 

"I don't know what y'all talkin' 'bout."

 

"They're trash talking their men," Nik said. "That's what they're doing. Actually, that's what mine is doing and she's trying to get you and Sasha in on it. Just cause I like her hair just the way it is."

 

"That's not it," Dawn said. "Don't simplify it."

 

At the confused expression on Daryl's face, Sasha said, "Dawn was talking about either shaving her head or get locs…kinda like Michonne."

 

"Michonne's hair is cool," Daryl said.

 

"You think so?" Sasha asked, surprised.

 

Daryl shrugged. "Sure."

 

"See!" Dawn said, splashing soundly toward her husband. "You're all caveman, but Daryl's a renaissance man."

 

"Wait," Nik said, "he hasn't said if he'd like for Sasha to shave her head or get locs. They're talking about someone else, so don't get so cute so fast."

 

"But you always say I'm cute," Dawn said, giggling.

 

"You are." Nik grabbed her and pulled her to him. "Even when you're being a smart ass. Help me, Daryl. Truth, you'd be cool if Sasha shaved her head or loc'ed her hair?"

 

Sasha waited for Daryl to figure out a way out of this conversation. She had seen his unease at the adulation of the newcomers to the prison, but this was another level of discomfort. He bit his bottom lip and studied the landscape as various shades of red colored his chest and crept toward his face.

 

To interrupt the moment, she retrieved the shampoo from the basket. The cap refused to untwist, and then there was Daryl. Their fingers brushed as he took the bottle from her and twisted the cap loose. This close, he kept his gaze locked on hers. Her heart raced from the way he studied her face.

 

"I like her hair just fine the way it is," Daryl said, "but I reckon she'd be beautiful no matter how she wore it."

 

"Damn," Dawn murmured.

 

"I feel the same way about you," Nik said.

 

"Hush."

 

The couple swam a few feet away to make up. Sasha looked in their direction without seeing them. Daryl's words had stunned her. With his close proximity, she couldn't discount the honesty in his eyes. He'd meant every word. Just knowing that took her off center. She wanted to say something, but everything that came to mind made her feel exposed. She wasn't quite ready for that.

 

"You changed your mind about washing your hair?" he asked.

 

"No…" She looked at the bottle he still held. His compliment had made her forget all about the small task.

 

"You'd better hurry. That rain's but minutes away," he said.

 

"You can use some," Sasha said. "I'm sure Dawn wouldn't mind."

 

He sniffed it. "Smells like coconuts."

 

"So?"

 

"I don't know if I wanna smell like no tropical island and shit."

 

"You're man enough to pull it off," she said.

 

A half smile tugged at his mouth. "Fine."

 

He poured a small amount into his palm, gave her the bottle, and rubbed the shampoo in. She admired his ability to work a lather with one hand while still holding the knife with the other.

 

"Your turn," he said.

 

Sasha tugged the tie from her hair and dropped it into the basket. Daryl's avid interest made her somewhat self-conscious, but she pretended not to care. With the water to her neck, she held her breath and ducked underneath the surface to fully wet her hair. When she stood again, she lathered the shampoo and massaged it, one-handed, into her scalp.

 

"You're moaning like you've found heaven," Daryl said.

 

"Washing my hair with soap doesn't feel half as good as using shampoo," she said. "I don't know why. There's conditioner, too, if you want some."

 

"You're using that, too?" he asked.

 

"Yeah."

 

"You missing some in the back," he said. "Turn around."

 

Sasha waded around until her back was to him.

 

"Hold this." He gave her his knife. "Using one hand just slows it down."

 

A moment later, she felt both his hands in her hair, molding her scalp and kneading her flesh. Layers of wet hair and shampoo lather did little to block the warmth and insistent pressure of his hands on her. She'd had good shampoos before, but this was by far, the best. An unbidden moan passed from her and she didn't have the strength to feel shame.

 

"You like that?" he murmured against her ear.

 

"Oh, yeah," she said with a slight nod. "That's good, Daryl. That's real good."

 

He massaged a bit more, and then said, "Dunk down again."

 

She followed his request. When she resurfaced, he tapped her shoulder with the bottle of conditioner.

 

"This goes on the same way?"

 

"Yeah," she whispered. "Same way."

 

She closed her eyes and waited. Daryl didn't disappoint. He massaged the conditioner into her hair with the same precision as he'd shampooed her only a moment ago. A comfortable silence settled between them. Only the occasional giggle from Dawn or heavier laugh from Nik interrupted the quiet. Sasha noted that Daryl took longer to apply the conditioner and he was slower and more pronounced with his massage of her scalp. She hated to think that the rain would come or they'd have to leave the lake.

 

"It ain't doing what the shampoo done," he murmured.

 

"It won't lather like soap," she said. "It stays thick like lotion."

 

"What's it for?" he asked.

 

"You never used conditioner?"

 

"I mostly wash my hair with soap," he said. "I don't see how it matters."

 

"It matters for my type of hair," she said. "Conditioner helps keep it soft and makes it easier to comb."

 

"You got a comb?"

 

She laughed. "No. Dawn may have one, but my fingers work just as good."

 

"Like this?"

 

Sasha's knees trembled as Daryl slid his fingers through her conditioner-drenched hair. There were a few tugs and snarls, but he worked them out gently. She doubted if he missed a strand.

 

"Feels good," she murmured again. "You're so gentle. My mama used to say I was tender-headed."

 

"That means you're a crybaby?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

 

"Something like that," Sasha confided. "I once cut my hair real short just to avoid letting anyone mess with it."

 

"I bet it looked good on ya."

 

"Thanks, Daryl."

 

"Dunk again."

 

When she came back up, a thunderclap came with the first sprinkles of rain. Daryl turned and started working the lather from his hair. With his back to her, she saw the scars that crossed his back. Questions plagued her, but she didn't dare voice them. A calm, mellow vibe hung between her and Daryl now. She knew that drawing attention to his past pain would erase the good memories they'd created with a shampoo and conditioner. After everything they'd lost, they needed to create good memories. Something to look back on with a smile.

 

"It's coming," Daryl said to no one in particular. He started to wade toward the big rock where Nik had left his clothes. "Y'all, c'mon!"

 

Sasha took Dawn's basket and followed Daryl. By now, he'd disappeared into the bushes to dry off and dress. She grabbed her towel from the rocks and moved into bushes that were a few feet away. Nik and Dawn pulled up the rear. As the sprinkles increased to a downpour, Sasha hurried to grab stuff and race Daryl to the Explorer, but her mind was moving on instinct. Memories of the lake had already begun to form and she couldn't stop thinking about them. She knew this brief respite from walkers was one she'd remember for many days to come.


	6. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two groups, although still separated, deal with frustrating situations created by outside forces. Will the circumstances cause them to break or become more unified?

Part 6: Frustration

Steady, overnight rainfall left puddles everywhere. Daryl found resisting the urge to stomp his boots into a few of the smaller patches of muddy slush too irresistible. From the corner of his eye, he caught Dominick doing the same. The boy laughed when his mom warned he'd have to do his own laundry, but after a few more splashes under his belt, Dominick stopped and ambled toward his father for his afternoon lesson.

The hours alone inside the SUV with Sasha had been a special kind of torture. Daryl didn't know how it was for her, but being that close to her after washing her hair damn near killed him. Damn the girly melodrama, he thought, knowing that if Merle were alive, his brother would accuse Daryl of that and worse. The smell of her shampoo, the soap and just plain Sasha had consumed the Explorer—made him want to explore her. He'd tossed and turned most of the night. She'd muttered some. Of course, his agitation pissed her off, but he didn't know what to do. He couldn't remember the last time he couldn't think a boner away or at the very least handle it himself. And the pouring rain was no help. He suffered the whole night and crawled out at first light. Now, he was tired, still a bit horny, and only a game of puddle splashing worked a little to loosen him.

Lorenzo brought in a stack of twigs and branches and dropped them near the cold, slushy boar pit. Daryl walked over and observed.

"Grounds too wet."

"You think?" Lorenzo asked with laughter in his voice.

"Gotta have a fire, though," Daryl said. 

In his early morning huff, he'd gone hunting and returned with a mess of squirrels and a rabbit. Dawn promised to fix her famous stew at which all the Cassidy men laughed. Daryl enjoyed the easy way the family had about them. Sasha's faint smile revealed she felt the same. 

The thought of her seemed to work magic as it rekindled his discomfort. He hadn't seen her for hours, but he knew she had been holed up in the RV with Dawn. Breakfast had consisted of leftover boar and tin biscuits from the RV oven. While the men decided whether or not they should move and look for better conditions as another rainfall could lead to a flood, the two women discussed hair. From the bits that Daryl overheard, Dawn was itching to do something fancy with Sasha's hair and Sasha was all for it. He pretended not to notice or care, but he'd had his eye on the RV with mixed emotions. 

Her hair concealed by a scarf, Sasha stepped out without a glance in his direction or any attempt to look for him. She carried a bundle stuffed under her left arm and her stick in her right hand. With her determined stride, she marched into the bushes. Daryl was moving to follow when Nash stepped ahead of him.

"Sonuvabitch," he mumbled under his breath.

Clutching his crossbow, Daryl ran after them. "Hey!"

Nash grew still. Daryl didn't see Sasha. The foliage was thick. He supposed she had gone deep into the bushes. 

"What?" Nash asked. "Can't a man take a piss?"

"Ya got a RV," Daryl said, crossbow raised. "Do it there."

"I ain't got to do shit nowhere I don't want to," Nash said. "You just got here. You ain't running shit."

Daryl glanced around. He couldn't be sure where Sasha was, but he wanted to make sure Clay wasn't planning an ambush. Nash moved, and Daryl aimed the crossbow.

"Get back," he growled.

"What the fuck's wrong with you, man?" Nash asked.

"Go piss somewhere else," Daryl said. "You ain't pissing here."

"You're a real sumbitch."

Daryl nodded and kept the bow poised for action. Nash waited a second or two before he looked off into the woods and then trudged back toward the camp. After a few steps, he turned and said, "This shit ain't over."

"Better believe it."

Daryl waited until his heart rate returned to normal before he lowered the crossbow. Soon after that, Sasha stepped through the bushes with a roll of toilet paper in one hand while still clutching the stick with the other. She gave him a funny look.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

"I'm about to ask ya the same shit," he barked. "Don't go walkin' off by yourself no more. Ya know better than that! This ain't the prison."

"Don't to talk me like—"

"Dammit, Sasha," he said, stepping close until only inches separated them. "You ain't stupid so don't start actin' like it now! Wise up. Shit!"

"Daryl—"

"Not right now." He shook his head. "I don't wanna hear no sorry ass, stupid excuses. Ya need to take a piss come get me. Don't come out here by yourself. Got it?"

Her eyes narrowed. She looked ready to spew venom and Daryl was ready to spew it back. Just the sight of her fired him up in ways he'd never been lit before. He knew what Nash had on his mind. What if Daryl hadn't seen her walk off or Nash following behind? What if she had been out here on her own? The questions reawakened the moments where he'd been helpless and had no one to defend him. He hadn't liked the feeling and for damn sure didn't want anyone he cared about to experience what he'd gone through. Just looking at her and knowing her ignorance made him burn. With anger, confusion, and sadness.

"Come on," he said, taking her wrist. She resisted at first, but he refused to let go. "I ain't leavin' ya out here."

"You watch how you talk to me," she snapped. "I don't like being manhandled."

Daryl loosened his hold. He drew in a breath and slid his hand around hers. "Better?"

She stared. Her dark brown eyes screamed the anger that her mouth had yet to share. Seconds passed before her breathing evened. Her gaze dropped to where their hands connected. Her fingers flexed against him, but she didn't tug free. Daryl waited and prepared for her wrath. He was surprised by her quiet tones when she finally spoke.

"Was it Clay or Nash?"

"Nash," he spat the name like a curse. 

Her full lips thinned into a firm line. She glanced toward the bushes where she'd relieved herself and then followed the trail back to camp. "I didn't hear him."

Another tirade scorched the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down. The troubled look on her face created lines that her girlish conversations with Dawn had erased. If he could wish the serenity back to her face, he would. Instead, he held her hand as they walked back to camp.

$%^&

Michonne had the first restful sleep since they left the two-story house. Despite the threat Lee and Aaron represented, she didn't have the edge from before like when the Governor was still out there. The occasional eye contact and faint smiles from Rick intensified the sensation of peace. The only thing that disrupted that feeling was Carl. 

Since leaving the row house, he'd made certain to keep her between him and his father. A scowl darkened his young face and his gaze was ever watchful. Nothing moved without his acknowledgement. Hours of walking hadn't relaxed him. Attempts at conversation fell against a wall of silence. She supposed being damn near schoolgirl giddy over a kiss at the face of potential kidnappers was out of place, but after years of being angry and tense, she wanted to bask in something going right. She needed to.

"There's another sign." She pointed at the map to Terminus nailed to a now useless telephone or power line pole. Whatever service the pole once served was pointless now. Except for posting signs and leaning against when endless walking tired the living. 

"They’re all over," Rick observed. "The last one was about 2 miles back. If they're legit, they're serious about helping."

"You keep saying 'if.'" Carl kicked a loose pebble across the road. A squirrel paused mid-flight before disappearing up a tree. "Dang it. We could've had that one."

"There'll be more," Rick said quietly. He headed toward the map. 

Michonne followed him. Carl pressed against her other side. She rested her arm on his shoulder and she felt his muscles relax.

"Change your mind?" she asked.

Rick shook his head. "Nah, we'd better stay off the tracks and away from that place."

"I think we should go," Carl said. "If those assholes are looking for us, they're probably headed that way."

"Watch your mouth," his father said.

"I-I…but Dad, you heard what they said about Michonne."

Rick touched her hand. He slid his fingers along hers. "I heard."

"We should be hunting them down," Carl said. "It'll be the Governor all over again."

"No, it won't," Michonne told him. 

"We need more ammo," the boy continued as if she hadn't spoken. "We don't even know if they have guns—"

"Carl, stop it," Rick cut in. "You're getting worked up."

"Why aren't you?" Carl asked. "We've lost Mom, Judith…ain't losing Michonne, too! I'm not gonna do it!" Carl stormed a few feet away back to the road. 

Michonne was torn. Part of her wanted to run after Carl. Hug him. Reassure him with promises that she'd be alright. Another part didn't want to lie. The boy meant too much for her to fill him with words that she longed to honor but might not be able to. Then, there was his father. The tortured look on his face rendered her immobile. As much as she wanted to comfort his son, she ached to pull the father into her arms, too. The kiss answered questions, while creating more. 

Acknowledging their growing interest had been long overdue, but neither of them was the impulsive type. At least not regarding relationships. Not after everything. After losing so much, she had to be sure before she dared risk finding out if Rick's lingering stare meant more than idle curiosity or the usual male appreciation for her shapely ass. Admitting they meant the kiss helped, but she didn't want to hurt Carl. She wasn't sure he was ready for this change between her and his father.

"Michonne?" Rick's tone was quiet, intimate, and yet firm. 

She met his gaze and realized he must have been staring at her for a while. "Yeah?"

"He's scared—"   
"I get that," she cut in.

"Let me finish," Rick said. "He's seen more than I ever wanted him to. The last thing I want him to see next is anything happen to you."

"I'm not afraid of them," she said. "We can track them and take care of it."

Rick cocked his head to the side. He moved in until their personal spaces became one. His blue eyes darted around them, checking on Carl, the landscape, and finally returning to her. "That's what you want to do?"

She looked back at Carl before she answered. The Deputy's hat on the boy's head marked his age although the pistol on his hip told a different story. When he slept, she could almost see the child he used to be. His deepening voice cracked at the oddest moments. They laughed at the same corny jokes. She loved that there was still a boy beneath the layers of all that he'd witnessed and participated in. 

"It's not what I want to do," she said. 

"Are you scared?" he asked.

She answered honestly and without hesitation. "No."

Rick released a short, humorless laugh. "Of the three of us, you're the only one."

She frowned.

He reached for a loc and gently tugged. "I want to hurt them before they can hurt you. I'm scared of what kind of man that makes me. I don't want that for my son. Carl's right. We've lost…too much. We ain't losing you."

"You're a good father."

"I want to be good to you, too."

Michonne took Rick's hands and held them between hers. "You are."

"What do you want to do?"

"Keep walking," she said. "Find something to eat and a good place to lay low for the night. What about you?"

"Kiss you again," he said with a faint grin. "Kiss you a lot."

She giggled low enough for him to hear. "Rick…"

"You asked." He raised her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "That'll have to do for now."

"Come on." She patted his beard and headed toward Carl. "Okay now?"

The boy shrugged. "It ain't wrong to protect the people you care about."

"No, you're right," she said, feeling Rick coming to stand beside her. "We protect each other. Don't worry, okay?"

Carl's eyes narrowed as he regarded her. "You're not scared?"

She smiled as she shook her head. "Not even a little bit."

"We'd better get moving," Rick said. "Light'll be gone before we know it."

When they started walking away, Carl moved to Michonne's right and Rick claimed her left. Michonne withheld any commentary about their swift maneuvering and enjoyed the gracefulness of their skills. 

$%^&

"You didn't squat in some poison oak, did you?" 

Sasha frowned at Dawn's question. "Huh? What did you say?"

"You've been quiet since you came back," Dawn said. "You could've used the toilet here."

Sasha shook her head. "I needed to stretch my legs. Besides, my uncle had an RV. The toilet clogged and was the worst headache. I avoid bathrooms in RVs. It's automatic."

Dawn gestured for Sasha to shift around so that she could start on the left side of Sasha's head. An eclectic mix of Miles Davis, Keb Mo, Johnny Cash, Janet Jackson, and Patsy Cline played from the speakers of an iPod Touch. The music offered small assistance in settling Sasha's nerves. After their blowup, Daryl tried. Well, he was quiet on the walk back to camp and even walked her to the door of the RV. Their hands entwined the entire time had proved a major distraction. As Sasha reclaimed her chair at the table inside the RV, she forced herself to engage with Dawn but her heart hadn't been in the conversation as it had before she left to urinate. In less than five minutes, too much had happened.

"You and Daryl okay?" Dawn asked.

Sasha stiffened. "Um…"

"I'm not trying to be nosy even though it may sound like it," Dawn explained. "It's just… If you want to talk about it, you can. If you don't, that's cool. I mean, I get it. Adjusting to these circumstances isn't easy and then maintaining a relationship… Shit. I love Nik, but there are times I wish I could go to the mall and just chill."

"I've been informed that pissing on my own is no longer allowed," Sasha confided.

"I figured as much." Dawn chuckled. "You should’ve seen the looks on your faces. Both of you. Hot damn."

"We're cool." 

"Good." Dawn worked through the sections of Sasha's hair as she spoke. "My vibe about y'all is that you'll make it. The Alphas can drive you crazy, though."

"Alpha?" Sasha asked.

"Alpha male," Dawn explained. "Nik is definitely Alpha and so is Daryl. I spotted that right off with the way, he picked up on Clay and Nash and has kept his eyes on you. Alpha men are sexy, but I'll admit there are times when I want Nik to dial it down. Then on the other hand, that's who he is and it's kept our family safe."

Sasha smiled as she listened to Dawn's description. Daryl Dixon was not afraid to get into the mix. She had witnessed that side of him too many times to count. In this changed world, the motto seemed to be: Be Alpha or be dead. As much as his over-protectiveness annoyed the hell out of her, she knew it came from a good place. But in the heat of the moment, the good place wasn't recognizable. She only saw red.

Later at the evening meal of rabbit/squirrel stew, which wasn't too bad, Sasha stayed close to Daryl. They didn't speak much to each other. His focus was Clay and Nash, and hers was Daryl and the stew. Around them, the Cassidy family discussed the possibility of leaving. The lake had risen and the heavy humidity promised another rainfall. They didn't expect to stay more than another day. Before a decision could be made, the clouds opened as if on cue. 

Everyone scrambled. Sasha and Daryl headed for the Explorer. She crawled into the back with the sleeping bags. He folded into the front seat where he'd spent a restless night the night before. Sasha pulled a flashlight out and flipped the light on, holding it at an angle.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey yourself," he said in his trademark growl. "Save that light. We might need it later."

She turned the flashlight off and rolled onto her stomach. From this position, she could make out his outline. Even without seeing his face, his body language screamed misery. "Come back here. You can stretch out better."

"I'm alright."

"C'mon, Daryl," she said. "There's plenty of room. You can crack the windows and not worry about getting wet. Or wetter."

"Funny."

"Well," she said with a faint laugh. "Pillows."

"What? Pillows?"

"Yeah, pillows and it's drier than up there," she said.

He grumbled and muttered under his breath. Finally, she saw him move toward her. She shifted over to give him room. Once he was there, she realized the space wasn't as roomy as she thought. At least not for an Alpha. The idea of it made her giggle.

"What?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

"Nothing. I didn't thank you before—"

"Stop," he said. "Don't do that. I said some shit I shouldn't have said and thankin' me just makes it… Just call it square."

"Fine. We're square." She rolled onto her side to give him room and he mirrored her movements. Soon, they were facing each other. The patter of rainfall sounded in time to their breathing. Sasha wished she could see his face. "Daryl?"

"Somebody else here?" he asked, teasing.

"Ha ha," she said. 

"What, Sasha?" he said. "I ain't sleep. I'm listening."

"What do you think about that place…Terminus?" she asked. "Think there's really a safe haven?"

"Hard to say, y'know?" He spoke in a near whisper. "I think they were calling over the radio, but I can't say for sure."

"The radio?" Sasha rose onto her elbows. "Are you sure? What radio? When?"

"Back when ya'll got sick and we went on the run. Somethin' came over the radio and then a herd tore through. I had forgotten about it 'til now."

"Well…if they're broadcasting…"

"Still don't mean they're legit," Daryl muttered. "Could be bullshit. Look at what the Governor done. Woodbury looked pretty, but a fox set up the henhouse. I ain't about takin' that kind of chance. Are you?"

"Dawn wants us to go with them if they head out," Sasha said. "They're not sure about Terminus either. But they're right about this place flooding. After this rain, we'll have to leave tomorrow."

"I ain't keen on staying with 'em if Clay and Nash are still hangin' around."

"They weren't saying much at dinner," she said.

"I noticed. Still don't mean they ain't thinkin' about it," Daryl said. 

Sasha recognized his point. As she considered their options, she saw a shadow of movement in the corner of her eyes. Then she felt his hand on her hair. For just a brief moment, he ran his fingers through before the back of his hand grazed her cheek as he pulled away.

"Your hair looks good. Dawn did that?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said softly. 

"It ain't like Michonne's," Daryl said. "I saw when you came out the RV, but I couldn't tell for sure. What she do?"

"Two-strand twists," Sasha said. "Michonne has dreadlocks. I can undo the twists."

"Yeah?" he said. "It looks pretty on you. The dreadlocks would, too, I guess."

"I would say thanks, but…"

He laughed. "Don't say it." He drummed his fingers on the sleeping bag in time with the rain. "It's gonna get colder now. We go off alone shelter's not guaranteed. If we stick with 'em, maybe. I don't like those cousins."

"Me either, but they may not come."

"Maybe," he said. "Did you call me back here to talk my ear off?"

"No. Goodnight, Daryl."

"Goodnight, Sasha." 

The sudden quiet made her intensely aware of his presence. Their pretense of being claimed by the other called for both to be hands on in public. Hand holding, touching and whatever felt strange the day before, but now, Sasha was getting used to Daryl's awkward caresses and found them familiar, comforting. Her thoughts wandered to their argument and their walk back to camp. They held hands when the situation didn't warrant it. She could've pulled away, and he took her hand instead of just releasing her altogether. Dare she make something of it or just let the moment roll away? Tyrese had often accused her of being too analytical. Maybe he was right. But damn. Why did the thought of her brother make her throat constrict?

"You okay?" Daryl asked. 

She mumbled what she hoped was an affirmative response.

"Don't sound like it."

"Fine." The word came out strangled. She rolled onto her side away from him although in the dark SUV, she doubted if Daryl could see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

The Explorer rocked with Daryl's movements. Finally, he touched her shoulder. "You ain't got to worry 'bout those rednecks. I got 'em."

"I know."

He pulled away. "Oh…"

"Just go to sleep—"

"Don't be telling me what to do, woman," he snapped, but gently in a mocking tone. "I sleep when I want to."

She laughed in spite of the sadness that had crept in. "Fine. Don't sleep—"

"There ya go again!"

"Daryl…"

"Damn, is somebody else here?" he asked. "Where they at? Who the hell is it? If it's more than me and you, how the hell do they fit?"

She turned onto her back and adjusted her position to see what the limited light would allow. He appeared to be on his back, too, with his right knee bent and his left arm angled behind his head. He turned his head toward her when she moved. 

"What?" he asked.

Sasha didn't use words to thank him. Instead, she leaned over to kiss his forehead, lingering longer than necessary. She caught his quick intake of breath and how he stiffened. His reaction didn't surprise her. What did surprise her was her own instinct to kiss him. When she lay back down and listened to their uneven breathing, she knew that sleep wouldn't come easy for either of them but still, at least they were together. There was comfort in that.

$%^&

Rick smelled them before he heard them. Another heavy downpour had left the air free of the usual scent of decay and neglect. Purity lingered in the aftermath and reminded him of better times. When life was easier. When finding an old ransacked shack didn't seem like he'd won the lottery, but since it would provide shelter for his family, he'd take the shack and be glad to have it. The roof leaked and the floorboards wore more rot than wood. Still, Carl and Michonne managed to make do and Rick told him he'd get wood for a small fire for the fireplace. He was no more than a stone's throw away when the men's scent reached him. He dropped the twigs and branches and crept back to the cabin.

Michonne and Carl had laid out their small stash of food in his absence. Carl jumped at Rick's sudden entrance. As father and son stared, Carl's face changed. He cast a worried frown toward the back door.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Folks headed this way," Rick said. "Where's Michonne?"

"Peeing." The boy looked embarrassed at the admission. "She wouldn't let me go with her."

"You're fine," Rick assured his son. "I'll get her. Which way she go?"

"Not far. Just behind those bushes. I watched her duck down."

Rick nodded. "This ain't fortified like we need so get our stuff and be prepared to move. I don't know how it's gonna turn out."

"You think it's those guys?" Carl asked. "Lee and Aaron found us?"

Rick moved quickly to the back door as he answered. "I don't know. Could be friend or foe. We'll get Michonne and we're out."

By the time Rick stepped outside, Carl had packed their things and was right behind him. Their movements failed to disturb the twigs on the ground. The smell of the men was less apparent in the back, but Rick still sensed that others were nearby. He wanted to get Michonne and get moving. Running from a fight had never been his first choice, but protecting his own made him rethink things. He'd keep Carl and Michonne safe no matter what was required.

They reached the cluster of bushes and found them empty. Rick forced himself not to jump to conclusions. There was no sign of struggle and only one set of footprints. The image resembled her boots. He signaled for Carl to follow. They found her picking berries from a bush.

She smiled at them until Rick shook his head and pressed a finger to his mouth. The berries fell from her handkerchief as she lifted her hand to reach for the katana. In the distance, walkers grumbled. The noise could have been a small herd or more. Rick had no way of knowing how close the moving dead were; he was too concerned about the living.

"They found us?" she asked when she and the Grimes men had reached each other.

"Don't know. Someone's here."

"We could say 'Hi,'" she said.

"Not funny," Rick said, unwavering. 

They'd slept in the cabin the night before and managed to avoid most of the rain. The plan had been to stay another night if possible. The arrival of the unknown had put a serious kink in their goal for shelter.

"The mud will make our tracks clear," she said. 

"Don't know how many or what they have," Rick said. 

"We're wasting time," Carl chimed in. 

They headed deeper into the forest. Rain still clung to leaves and branches. Their steps made squishing noises on the muddy floor. They moved as quietly as possible, using hand gestures to signal. Rick was certain they were headed back toward the road and maybe another town would be nearby. At this point, holding up anywhere would be a godsend.

"Whoa!" 

The trio stopped short at the loud voice.

"Looky what we got here," the man chuckled. "Dammit, if this don't beat all."

Rick moved in front of Michonne and Carl. The man's face wasn't recognizable, but Rick remembered his voice from the two-story frame house. Four other men joined him. Two carried guns, one had a knife, and the other had a big stick.

"Joe, you're damned good tracker," said a skinny man wearing a bandana tied around his head. "You said we had 'em. Here's the pack of smokes."

"Don't ever bet with a gambling man," Joe advised. 

"What do you want?" Rick said. Michonne and Carl moved in close, standing with their backs against his. They formed a triangle, preparing to defend themselves if it came to that.

"It ain't about what we want," Joe said, his expression blank yet sinister. "It's about what's fair."

"Fair?" Rick spat the word. He had his weapon drawn. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You took one of our own," Joe said. "We aim to even the score." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, and leaving kudos. With the semester ending soon, I hope to update more frequently. But enough about me! This chapter is back to the original format. Thoughts? Too long or nah? Although Rick and fam have run into The Claimers, Lee and Aaron are still on the loose. Danger lurks everywhere in the ZA. Still debating if throat ripping will be an issue in this fic, so thoughts are appreciated in that regard, too. Tonight's the big night. Midseason finale and someone dies. My money is on more than one will be checking out and I'm hoping that my guess isn't wrong. Anyway, thanks much for your patience!


	7. Tribute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his family in danger, Rick will do whatever it takes to save them. Meanwhile, Daryl goes into hyper-awareness mode.

Part 7: Tribute

 

The conversation from the previous dinner had been a prophecy. Just as everyone feared, the water rose with the night's rainfall. Their time near the pond was over. Breakfast was the last thought on anyone's mind as the damage was assessed. Sludge covered the campsite floor and threatened to trap the tires of all the vehicles. Dampness clung in the air, reminding Sasha that a new season was coming soon. She pulled Daryl aside as the Cassidy family started packing their belongings.

 

"We have to make a decision now," she said.

 

"Your mind's already made up." Daryl's eyes narrowed. "Just say it."

 

"Lorenzo has room in his truck," Sasha said. "and he invited us to join him. We'd be fools not to."

 

"With Clay and Nash taking off like they done, we ain't taking chances on foot," he said. "I'll let Lorenzo know we're comin'. Don't go off nowhere."

 

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Who's giving orders now?"

 

He gave her a half smile before he shouldered his crossbow and headed toward Lorenzo and Nik. Sasha crawled into the rear of the Explorer to gather their things. They didn't have much, but she wanted to keep what little they had managed to hold on to after the fall of the prison. As she started rolling the sleeping bags, Dawn joined her.

 

"Hey, I hear y'all are coming with us." Dawn helped her zip one of the bags close before they started on the other one. "Glad to hear it."

 

Sasha nodded. "We appreciate you taking us in."

 

"Good people are hard to come by." Dawn added in a low voice, "I can't say I'm sorry the cousins dipped out. A little surprised, though."

 

"Me too, especially since they left the RV."

 

"Who has gas for these guzzlers?" Dawn asked. "They're on foot and we have vehicles. So wherever they're headed, we can put miles between us."

 

Sasha and Daryl piled into Lorenzo's truck with Sasha in the middle. Nik, Dawn, and Dominik took the Explorer, and they headed out first. Sasha remembered the thrill of travel from when she and Tyrese were kids, but since the change, her life seemed consumed with moving and she was tired of it. The prison had been more than a sanctuary; it had been home. She wondered if that would ever exist again.

 

"Hey…" Daryl placed his hand on her thigh, an inch or two from her knee. "Um… you okay?"

 

"I'm good." She looked at him and found him staring. She wanted to say something to break her mood, but static hummed near her left ear. Then she heard Nik's voice come through the walkie-talkie clipped to the driver's sun visor.

 

"Bro, pick up! Ten-4, over."

 

Lorenzo grabbed the walkie-talkie. "What? These are for emergencies, dude. You're wasting batteries."

 

"Turn on the CB."

 

"Sorry," Lorenzo said. "Forgot."

 

Sasha took the walkie-talkie as Lorenzo flipped the CB radio on. He adjusted the dial to their agreed channel and Dominik's voice came through.

 

"Uncle! You there...Oh, 10-4."

 

"I'm here. Over." Lorenzo chuckled.

 

Sasha tuned out their conversation. The walkie-talkie reminded her of childhood. Tyrese had gotten a pair of talkies one Christmas. Always the generous older brother, he let her play with them and they had the craziest and most imaginative adventures. She sighed. Thoughts of her brother caught her at the strangest moments. She preferred not thinking about him at all. It was easier that way. Easier to pretend that he was alive out there somewhere.

 

"Sasha?" Daryl's voice grated close to her ear.

 

"Tyrese and I had a pair of these when we were kids," she said, pushing through the hoarseness in her voice. "Can you believe he tore his attic apart trying to find them before we headed out?"

 

Daryl extended his hand palm up. She gave him the walkie-talkie. He inspected it and Sasha was sure he would have found defects if the thing had any. The expression on his face became guarded. She hesitated about pushing him, but she needed something to get her mind off Tyrese. Leaving the campground was putting miles between them and the prison. If her brother was near there, moving on made it difficult to find him but she had little choice but to move on.

 

"What's wrong with it?" she asked.

 

"Nothing," he muttered. "I ain't ever have a toy that actually worked or nothing high tech like this."

 

"This isn't high tech."

 

"If you come from my neighborhood, it is." He gave the walkie-talkie back to her. "My fishing pole and crossbow were the closest things I had to toys. Maybe some marbles I found that Merle had and didn't want no more."

 

She nodded.

 

"I don't want you feeling sorry for me or nothing," he grumbled just low enough for her to hear.

 

"I don't." Sasha saw that his blue eyes were troubled and uncertain. She offered assurance the best way she could. She took his hand. "Your skills have kept us fed and protected. Why would I feel sorry about that?"

 

She would have said more but a sign nailed to a pole caught her attention. It was a map and the destination was, "Terminus."

 

"Huh?" Daryl asked. "Did you see a sign?"

 

"Yeah, we just passed it. I couldn't read anything else. Went by too fast."

 

"That's the place I was telling you about."

 

"Y'all talking about that sanctuary?" Lorenzo asked. 

 

"Did you see the sign?" Sasha asked.

 

"Saw something, but I wasn't paying attention," he answered.

 

"Think it's safe?" she asked. The words slipped before she could pull them back. What was safe now? Did the word mean anything anymore? After everything they'd seen and done?

 

"That's the question, isn't it?" Lorenzo asked. "Nik isn't so sure. Wants to check it out real good before we go."

 

"Could be Clay and Nash headed there," Daryl said. "If they are, Sasha and me can find our own way—"

 

"Hold on," Lorenzo cut in. "Nothing's carved in stone."

 

"Tyrese could be there," Sasha said quietly.

 

"Who's Tyrese?" Lorenzo asked.

 

"My brother."

 

Lorenzo nodded as if he understood everything that hadn't been said. "As it stands now, we don't have a plan except for dry ground. Better yet, a dry building. What you call them… walkers? A dry building, walker-free."

 

"I recognize this. We were planning a run this way before…" Daryl said, "There are a couple of stores up ahead that ain't been hit too hard. We can stock up, and consider our options. We cut out before breakfast and I'm 'bout ready for some grub. Sasha?"

 

"Sounds good."

 

Lorenzo pulled into the left lane and gunned the accelerator. "Roll down your window. I'm tired of the static. Tell Nik the new plan."

 

$%^&

 

Light filtered through the slats of wood covering the former law office lobby windows. Michonne guessed that several hours had passed since the group of men found her and the Grimes men in the woods. The leader, Joe, had his men bind them and forced them to this deserted town and building. She sensed Rick was on the fringe of losing control and imagined that's what Joe wanted. He wanted them on edge and worried about his next move. She had been in worst situations and giving Joe what he wanted, just wasn't in her.

 

Their belongings had been stacked on a desk in the center of the room. Her katana. Carl's hat. Rick's jacket and his Colt. The men also laid out the food and toiletries she, Rick, and Carl had managed to stockpile along the way. Across the room, she noticed Rick's shoulders twitching as he tried to work the ties loose. She looked to her left to check on Carl. He was busy staring wide-eyed at the men whose temperament had begun to shift.

 

Michonne identified the men by body type or other characteristics. Slim was the fair-skinned black guy with a bandana. Biker was the older white guy with a thick beard and tattoos on his neck. Roid-boy was the younger white guy who looked as if still spent too much time in the gym. Then there was Chubs whose girth decided her name for him and from what she could tell, seemed to pay far too much attention to Carl. Once she was free, Michonne and the katana would see to Chubs first. Of course, there was Joe.

 

"The sword's mine," Roid said with a grin. He reached for the katana but Biker beat him to it.

 

"Too late," Biker said. "Already claimed it."

 

"That's bullshit." Roid pulled on the strap, but Biker's grip was strong.

 

"You know the rules." Biker laughed.

 

"Colt—"

 

"Claimed it," Slim said. "You're too slow, kid."

 

"I didn't want the dumb gun away," Roid said. "Any dumbass can have a gun. Fuck the gun and the sword. I'm claiming the woman first—"

 

Within seconds, the disagreement escalated. Roid lunged at Biker and the older man was ready for him. The two scuffled. The other men stepped back and did nothing to stop it. Michonne looked at Rick and found him staring back at her. Unbridled rage burned in his eyes. She frowned. Didn't he understand that's what Joe wanted? She wasn't afraid of them. She was more afraid of what would happen to the three of them as a whole.

 

Loud grunts pulled her attention away from Rick. Simultaneous thuds vibrated through the carpeted floor. They had both driven knives into the other's belly and stabbed the other dead.

 

Joe shook his head in disgust. "Dammit! Get 'em out of here."

 

Chubs and Slim grabbed a body each and removed them. The thumps sounded as if they rolled or kicked the corpses into the street. Michonne hoped they had sense enough to pierce their skulls, too. She was about to voice her thoughts, but Joe turned his anger to the three of them.

 

"We were a peaceable group, you asshole," he said to Rick. "We had rules and everything was going along just fine until you came along. You have three deaths on your head now instead of the one. Three for three."

 

"Let'em go!" Rick said through clenched teeth. "You have me. Do what you want. But let them go!"

 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Joe asked. "But what would you learn from that? Not a damn thing, I'd wager. Letting them go would give you what you want. There's no punishment in that. Nothing."

 

"They haven't done a damn thi—"

 

"It's what they _can_ do," Joe said. "It's what they do for you. They're tools. I'd decided before I found you that your punishment would be slow, but I think I've found a better way to go about it."

 

Chubs and Slim returned. They lingered near the door as they listened to Joe. By now, Joe had positioned himself to include Carl and Michonne in his conversation with Rick. Michonne guessed his next words in the minutes before he even spoke. Men like him weren't a mystery. Their predictability was pathetically easy.

 

"Hurting you is too simple and while we are simple men, causing the death of our own requires more than simplistic punishment." Joe folded his arms across his chest. He looked first at Carl and then at Michonne. "The thing is hurting them will hurt you more, but which one will hurt you the most? Your boy or your woman?"

 

Rick's face reddened and his shoulders moved more. Carl gasped as he stared at her. His fear reached her and it felt cold and lonely. She stumbled to her feet and said, "Me. Take me. Hurt me."

 

$%^&

 

The area hadn't changed much since the last time Daryl checked for supplies. Since the prison fell, he'd lost track of time, but he was sure it was mid-summer when he and Glenn came through one afternoon. They had spotted the hardware store, clinic, department store, pharmacy, and a rundown law office all on the same block. Some walkers lingered in the neighborhood so they decided to come back later. Maybe get a list from Hershel for their trip to the clinic and pharmacy. So much for that. Daryl tugged his bottom lip. Hershel was dead. No telling where everyone else was.

 

He looked down where Sasha still rested her hand on his. He knew that only luck brought them together. He'd be damned if he let anything take her away from him. The possessive stirring surprised Daryl. He never figured himself for that type, but he'd never really had cause to be before. His flesh suddenly burned hot and cold. He shifted against the passenger door, his thigh slamming hard against the door handle. A grunt lodged in his throat.

 

"You okay?" Sasha asked.

 

"Fine," he mumbled.

 

Nik parked the Explorer with the rear facing the stores and Lorenzo also backed into a space beside them. They met in the center of the street. Everyone had weapons of some sort. A couple of walkers ambled toward them and Daryl got them with his crossbow.

 

"Damn," Dawn said. "That's cool. Nik…"

 

"If I can find one, it's yours," her husband said.

 

"Dad—"

 

"You too," Nik said.

 

Lorenzo laughed. "World is insane and some things never change."

 

"Nope," Nik said with a grin. "Okay. Who's got what? There's the hardware store and what used to be Dollar General."

 

"Clinic and a pharmacy, too," Daryl said.

 

"We can do the hardware store," Sasha said.

 

"Let's check out the clinic," Dawn suggested to her husband.

 

"I'm going with them," Lorenzo said. He pointed at the walkie-talkie clipped to his nephew's belt. "Call if you need us."

 

"You do the same," Nik said. Lorenzo had attached his walkie to his belt, too. "Don't be a hero," Nik added. "We've made it this far together. All it takes is one stupid mistake. Never forget that."

 

"Yes, big bro." Lorenzo saluted.

 

The two groups parted. Daryl took lead. The hardware store had a few more walkers which proved not too difficult for the three of them. Sasha handled the stick like a pro, but Daryl decided she needed something better. While he searched through the trashed aisle, he heard Lorenzo check in on the walkie-talkie.

 

"Nik, come in," he said.

 

"What's up?" Nik asked.

 

"Our building's clear," Lorenzo said. "How's with you?"

 

"Good. We took out five." Nik said. "It's not so bad in here. If we need to sleepover, this could be it."

 

Daryl kicked through trashed tents and camping supplies before he found the treasure he was looking for. The bowie knife wasn't perfect, but far better than a stick. He found a sharpener hidden on the bottom shelf. The knife slipped easily inside its leather sheath. The side release buckle was an added bonus. He saw Sasha head toward the stock room and he followed her.

 

She had a full duffel bag at her feet and stack of arrows resting across the bag. "Will these work?"

 

"Hell, yeah." Daryl handed her the knife and sharpener. "Better than the stick."

 

"Thank—" She smiled. "Never mind."

 

He grabbed the arrows and added them to his pack. These were better than what he had and the tips were razor sharp. He glanced up and found her watching. Heat burned his cheeks and he could imagine how many shades of red colored his face. Maybe dirt hid most of it.

 

"Did you hear that?" she asked. She was at the window. "Daryl!"

 

"What?" He rushed to her side. "Oh, shit."

 

"Ready to hit the next one?" Lorenzo asked as he entered the room. "What are y'all looking at?"

 

"One of ours is over there," Daryl said. He pointed to the building next door. Michonne's long, dark hair was unmistakable as was the calm, precise way she held her body. Other figures moved about. Too much dirt and grime on the windows prevented a clear view, but Daryl often went with his gut which never failed him. His instinct told him that everything about Michonne's stance was wrong.

 

"It's Michonne for sure," Sasha said quietly.

 

"That's Rick." Daryl touched her shoulder. "Listen."

 

"I don't understand what he's saying," she said. "The shouting…"

 

"Doesn't matter," Daryl said. "I know that's him."

 

"They're in trouble," Lorenzo said.

 

"Sounds like it," Daryl said. "We gotta go—"

 

"Wait." Lorenzo said. "Can't go rushing in. We don't know what the hell's happening. Besides my brother and his family are out there. We gotta warn them first. Just hold on one minute."

 

Daryl glared at Sasha who nodded. "He's right," she said softly. "One minute."

 

Lorenzo contacted Nik on the walkie-talkie. The brothers agreed to meet at the clinic because it had a better view of the law office. Once they got there, the men started planning and Daryl could feel Sasha's anger burn. He could deal with her pissy mood, but what he couldn't handle was something happening to her. Nik had already decided that Dawn and Dominik would remain at the clinic. Daryl had half a mind to lay down the law with Sasha. The idea felt odd to him, but something about Michonne's posture got to him. He didn't know what the hell they were running into over there. He doubted if he'd be able to think straight if he were worried about Sasha, too.

 

"Forget it, Daryl," she said, sharpening her new knife. "I'm not hiding or waiting around. Tyrese could be with them."

 

"You comin'," he growled, "you stayin' with me. No runnin' off. Understand?"

 

"You're not my daddy."

 

"Damn straight I'm not," he said.

 

"I see a boy and a man tied up," Dominik said, peering through a pair of binoculars from his perch at the front windows. "The man looks pissed. I can't see the woman… Wait. She's standing up. Her hands are tied behind her."

 

"How many men are holding them?" Dawn asked.

 

"Hold on, Mama," Dominik said. "One…two… Oh, there's a kinda fat guy. He's near the boy."

 

"Weapons?" Lorenzo asked.

 

"A sword. Wow. Sweet—"

 

"Focus, Dom," Nik said.

 

"Sorry, Dad. There's a gun. Long barrel. The older guy has a gun or knife on his belt. I can't tell what it is."

 

"What does the other guy have?" Daryl asked.

 

"The sword and the knife," Dominik answered. "He's pointing them at the woman. The tied up man is not happy."

 

"We gotta go," Daryl said.

 

$%^&

 

"Me," she said. "Take _me_. _Hurt_ me."

 

"NO!" Rick struggled to get to his feet. Something struck him from behind. He dropped to his knees, but he didn't lose consciousness. Ringing sounded in his ears. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins. He blinked to focus.

 

The men had found straws and were drawing to see who'd go first. He turned his head and connected with Michonne's unwavering stare. She looked so regal, standing there. Her gaze was a mixture of disapproval, understanding, and resolve. She shook her head at him and mouthed, "I'm okay."

 

But Rick wasn't. Across the room, Carl's face was unrecognizable with rage and fear. Tears pooled in his son's eyes as he stared at Michonne. He struggled to get loose and that's when Rick noticed how the fat one's attention was more fixated on his son than on the lottery for Michonne.

 

"No, this one's a half inch longer," the tall black guy was saying.

 

"That's what you always say," Joe said. "Not true this time."

 

Their conversation was only background noise to Rick. None of that mattered when the fat guy grabbed Carl and started tugging on the boy's belt. Rick didn't think. He pulled until the bindings snapped free. Then he threw himself at the man holding Carl. Unnamed emotions fueled Rick as the two struggled. The man's weight proved little match against Rick's determination to protect his family. Punches went back and forth. Finally, the man held Rick in a bear hug. A sinister grin lit his round face.

 

"I'll have him anyway," he growled. "You'll be dead and he'll still be mine."

 

At those words, Rick bared his teeth and went straight for the other man's jugular. In one move, Rick tore through the man's flesh and ripped his throat with only his teeth. Blood spewed like a fountain. He landed on the floor with a heavy thud. Silence descended as the two bickering men stopped to look in wonder at Rick's accomplishment.

 

Joe reacted first. Gun in hand, he aimed at Rick, but before he could shoot, an arrow pierced straight through his back and came out his chest. He died instantly. The black guy tried to make a run for it, but a bullet to the head stopped him cold.

 

Rick needed a moment to register the threat was over. Michonne held Carl in her arms. Somehow, Daryl and Sasha were there, too. So were two other men that Rick didn't know. He reached for his Colt.

 

"They're with us," Daryl said.

 

Later, the two groups settled down the block in a former bank. The clinic was just too close to the law office and Rick wanted Michonne and Carl to have a peaceful night if that was possible. To their good luck, the water was still working in the building and they had lanterns, candles, and a few flashlights from the hardware store. Rick lit a lantern and headed to the men's room. The reflection staring back at him wasn't a stranger, but a part of him felt that he should have been.

 

The outer door creaked open and familiar voice said, "Hey."

 

Rick paused in washing his face to hug Daryl. "Hey yourself. Your timing, man."

 

Daryl shrugged. "You'd've done the same for me."

 

Rick nodded. "Yeah."

 

He finished washing up and drying off. Conversation had never been his way. That was always Shane. Rick was more of a listener. He caught Daryl's reflection in the mirror. The other man didn't seem wary or put off, but Rick guessed that something was on his mind. If Rick thought of anyone as his brother, it was Daryl Dixon. If he had seen censure on Daryl's face, nothing would have changed between them. But he still had to go and face Carl and Michonne. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that, but if he had to do it over again, he wouldn't change a thing.

 

"You and Sasha headed out together?" Rick asked. He tugged into a clean t-shirt that had been taken from Dollar General. The aroma of canned beans and chili drifted down the hall as they exited the restroom. His stomach unleashed a loud growl. Food had been the last thing on his mind until then.

 

"She found me," Daryl said. "I got out with Beth."

 

His friend's tone stopped him. Rick hesitated. "Yeah? What happened? She dead?"

 

"Gone." Daryl frowned. "We were together. Then we weren't. Sasha found me. Then we met up with the Cassidys."

 

"What you think about them?" Rick's gaze drifted toward the bank lobby. A small fire had been contained inside a trash can. Nik had created a grill and his wife was busy with dinner. Their son appeared to be helping by opening cans and getting whatever she asked of him. Nik, Lorenzo, and Sasha were busy fortifying the windows and doors. He frowned when he didn't spot Michonne and Carl right off.

 

"They're in the manager's office," Daryl said.

 

Rick nodded. "Tell me about the Cassidys."

 

"They're good people," Daryl said. "Some cousins were a part of the group 'til this mornin', not their blood kin. Nash and Clay. We'll have to watch out for 'em."

 

"That's why they hid the cars?" Rick asked.

 

"Yeah."

 

Sasha grumbled as her grip on a board slipped and Daryl headed toward her without a word. Rick watched them work together and noticed how in sync they were. Soft footfalls came behind him. He relaxed as Michonne touched his waist. He reached behind him and took her hand.

 

"How's he doing?"

 

"Sleeping," she said. "I don't think we should wake him to eat."

 

"I think you're right." He shifted so that they were facing each other. The soft glow of the lanterns and candles provided enough light for him to see the warmth and concern on her beautiful face. "You okay?"

 

Michonne nodded. "Yeah."

 

"I'm okay," he said.

 

"I know," she said with a half-smile.

 

He frowned. "How?"

 

"Because I'm okay, too."

 

Rick pulled her to him and rested his face in the hollow of her neck. The fresh scent of soap, toothpaste and packaged t-shirts mingled with her unique, delicious aroma. A faint tremble went through him as he drew in a deep breath. Her arms tightened around him. Michonne's embrace was solid, strong, and comforting. And everything Rick needed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: I hope everyone is having a wonderful, joyous holiday. Sundays without TWD is a test of willpower and courage, but alas…J Thank you for reading, reviewing/commenting/kudoing, favoriting, and following! Your enthusiasm for this story (especially Sashyl or Dasha) is the best kind of motivation! I took the advice to include Rick's ultimate moment and added a twist. I also couldn't resist adding one of my favorite Richonne conversations from "A." It felt like the best way to end the chapter. The gang's back together! I'm still a little on the fence about Terminus or if it will be anything like the season opener. Of course, Terminus = cannibals, but I don't know much more than that in regards to this fic, yet. There are still 4 loose cannons to deal with (Lee/Aaron and Clay/Nash). Thoughts? As always, thanks for reading and if another chapter isn't posted before 12/31/14...Happy New Year!]


	8. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The previous day's events have lasting effects on the group. In the aftermath, revelations are made that reveal fears and concerns that have been buried. Also, an unexpected gift changes the dynamic of one couple's relationship.

Part 8: Revelations

 

The aroma of brewing coffee lulled Rick from a dreamless sleep. He rose from the former bank manager's swivel office chair to stretch the kinks from his neck and back. Across the room, Michonne sat half-curled on one of the leather sofas with Carl's head resting on her lap. A blanket hung loose over them. His son claimed most of the sofa, but Rick knew that she didn't mind. A few times in the night, Carl mumbled and cried out. Rick went to the boy, but Michonne waved Rick away as she soothed his son with gentle caresses and soft murmurs. The image of her tending to Carl had been the last thought on Rick's mind as he fell asleep.

 

Dawn entered and whispered, "Good morning." She headed to her son who lay sprawled on the other sofa. His covers lay in the heap on the floor. She stretched the blanket over  him, pausing to brush the curls from Dominik's forehead, but she didn't wake him.

 

"Mornin'," Rick said quietly before a yawn captured his greeting.

 

She smiled. "Sleep okay?"

 

He nodded. "Yeah. You?"

 

"It was peaceful," she said. "The coffee's ready. I'm working on breakfast—"

 

"You don't have to do all that for us."

 

She shrugged. "We all have to eat." With that, she left the room.

 

Rick hadn't made his mind up about the Cassidy family after one night. They seemed alright, though. Dominik and Carl were close in age. It would be good for both boys to have someone to hang with, as much as they could hang given the circumstances. Daryl's recommendation couldn't be dismissed, and Rick noticed how well Sasha and Dawn got along. Hell, Sasha wasn't one to open up to anyone so that was something in itself. Still, he wouldn't make a firm decision until he and Michonne talked.

 

As if she knew his thoughts had turned to her, she stirred. To his disappointment, she remained asleep. Yesterday had been hell for her, too. Although she worked to maintain that strong woman resolve, he knew the softness that resided underneath. Rick went to her and pushed a few locs from her cheek. His fingers skimmed her jawline, but he was careful not to wake her. He needed to see her like this. Safe. Unhurt. Resting. Beautiful and unguarded. He bent forward and kissed her forehead. Then, he left the manager's office before her mouth proved too tempting.

 

If Rick had a camera, the bank lobby would have been perfect for embarrassing photos. Lorenzo lay sprawled across the teller counter in a position similar to his nephew. Daryl had the other end and he too was fast asleep. Sasha sat near Daryl's head. She stifled a yawn as she smiled at Rick and offered a small wave. He returned both gestures. He planned to talk to her later, but the coffee proved too alluring.

A campfire coffeepot rested on the makeshift grill. Clean mugs lined a nearby table. Packets of sugar and cream were also available. Rick blinked once and rubbed his eyes. He used a towel to remove the pot from the heat and poured two mugs.

 

"Morning," Nik said.

 

Rick tensed. He wasn't sure why. He and the younger man hadn't spoken much. And it was Cassidy's bullet that prevented Joe's buddy from running off. Still, strangers made Rick uneasy. He hadn't always been that way.

 

"Mornin'," Rick said. The other man's brown eyes were clear. But it was obvious something was on his mind.

 

"You were a lawman before," Nik said. Upon Rick's silence, he continued. "We live in a lawless time now."

 

"What are you getting at?" Rick asked.

 

"I get why you did what you did—"

 

"I don't need your approval," Rick said.

 

"I'm not offering it," Nik said. "What I'm trying to say is I would've done the same thing." Dawn hummed to herself as she rummaged through the food items. Nik's gaze strayed to her and his affection for her was impossible to ignore. He rubbed his hands over his face as he spoke to Rick again. "A year ago, I would have fought for staying true to the old ways, but now I'd do anything to protect my family."

 

Rick nodded. Adapting to the changes hadn't been easy for him either. He couldn't say when he realized that he couldn't be the idealistic Sheriff's Deputy of King County anymore. Maybe it was a gradual process. Once made, there was no turning back now.

 

"Since this shit started, we've been with different groups. Some were…iffy to put it nicely, but we could become united."

 

"Why?" Rick asked.

 

"Safety in numbers is the answer that makes the most sense," Nik said, "but the truth is my wife and Sasha became friends. Maybe the same could happen for our boys. Hell, when I was Dom's age, the last thing on my mind was survival. I hate that my son is growing up like this, but what can you do? I can't turn back time. If I could, a lot of things would be different."

 

"We haven't made plans," Rick answered. "We had a larger group. We got separated. Until Daryl and Sasha showed up yesterday, I thought… Now, there's a possibility, you know?"

 

Nik shrugged. "The more the merrier."

 

"Daryl said y'all took him and Sasha in."

 

"We did," Nik said. "Do it again."

 

"Y'all saved our lives yesterday," Rick said.

 

"It's what people do—"

 

Rick shook his head. "Not all people. You helped Daryl and Sasha twice when you didn't have to. Thank you for that."

 

Rick grabbed the two mugs of coffee and took them back to the manager's office. The aroma awakened Michonne and she greeted him with a smile. One hand accepted the mug from Rick and the other caressed his son's cheek. Rick sat on the floor, cradling the mug between his palms, and watched Michonne sip coffee and Carl sleep.

 

$%^&

 

Tackling domestic duties under primitive conditions had been an interesting adjustment and perhaps a showing of God's unique sense of humor. Prior to the collapse of their world as they knew it, Dawn had written about this sort of thing. She had just sold a young adult novel series about a dismal dystopian future to a major New York publishing house when the dead started coming back to life. They were doing research in southern Georgia and met up with Lorenzo who was driving back from a weeklong vacation in Miami. For the first few weeks, she kept waiting for Nik to wake her up so she could tell him about her crazy dream and overzealous imagination. But he never did.

 

She carried oatmeal and a box of powdered milk to the grill. Nik lifted a cast iron pot onto the iron grate and poured bottled water inside.

 

"Tell me when," he said.

 

"Let's start with two bottles and then I'll know," she told him. She poured a good amount of oatmeal and milk into the pot. While he stirred with a wooden spoon, she asked, "How did it go?"

 

"Not sure, yet," he replied. "He's wary."

 

"Like you." She poked his hard, flat stomach and he smiled. "If it had been you instead of Lorenzo out there, Sasha and Daryl never would've seen our camp."

 

Nik shrugged. "I'm cautious. Clay and Nash had been a mistake. We couldn't afford to make another one."

 

"Admit that Lorenzo did okay."

 

"You're always sticking up for him," Nik complained with a faint smile. "My little bro is lucky that I'm not the jealous type."

 

"As if." She rolled her eyes and wrestled the spoon from him. "Hand me some sugar. I can't eat plain oatmeal."

 

He placed the packets in her hand, but he didn't release her until she kissed him.

 

"I needed that," he said. He pulled a chair close and sat as she cooked the oatmeal.

 

Before the outbreak, they often cooked meals together. Who was the better cook was a hot topic for debate. Nik was unmatched on the grill, but Dawn's baking made him drool. In the after, everything was rushed. They could never simply enjoy the moment. Dawn tried to bring normalcy into their routine for Dominik's sake and Nik did, too. But either the dead undead or some asshole living person found various ways to wreck it.

 

"About yesterday," Nik said quietly.

 

"Yeah?" She paused in surprise. She had drifted back to their open kitchen in Nashville with its terra cotta flooring and gas stove. Everything was stainless steel.

 

"It got me thinking about Noelle."

 

For a moment, she forgot to breathe. There wasn't a day she didn't think of their daughter, but by silent agreement, they rarely mentioned her. The unknown was too painful. She tapped the spoon hard against the edge of the pot. "Yeah?"

 

"Dawn." He took the spoon from her and set it on a towel. Then he drew her to him. His blunt fingertips dug into her hips. "She's safe with our parents."

 

"Yeah," she murmured against his chest.

 

"You need to say it," Nik said, "and believe it."

 

"She should have been with us," Dawn said. "Sometimes it's easier to believe…"

 

"I promised that we'll all be together again, and I meant it," he said.

 

"She went to New York with our parents. Has a year passed or has it been two? They could be anywhere."

 

"It doesn't matter. We pretend that there's no hole in our hearts, but it's a lie," Nik said. "I've always kept my promises to you and I won't stop breaking them now."

 

"This is one I won't hold you to." Dawn pulled Nik close to hide the tears in her eyes. "I love you."

 

"Love you more," he said with a kiss to her cheek.

 

 

$%^&

 

The abandoned town offered more than a solid roof, clean clothes, and fresh supplies. After breakfast, Daryl, Rick, and Lorenzo decided to go beyond the main block and see what else was available for their use. Rick struck gold when he spotted a Chevy Tahoe with the key in the ignition.

 

"Big enough for five," Rick said.

 

Daryl nodded. Lorenzo frowned, but he only told them to start it.

 

Rick opened the door and an odor from hell hit them full in the face. Daryl opened the back rear driver side door while Lorenzo moved around to get the doors on the passenger side. Then the three men stepped back. They guessed either a small animal crawled inside and died or died underneath the vehicle.

 

"It'll take at least a day to air out," Daryl said. "Maybe three."

 

Rick released a small laugh. "Three? Think it runs?"

 

"Looks alright," Lorenzo said. "I'm good with cars—"

 

"He's lying," Nik said with his son in tow.

 

"Uncle's an expert," Dominik added. "If it's not running, he can fix it."

 

"You make me sound like a miracle worker," Lorenzo grumbled.

 

"You are," Nik said. "You should've seen the RVs when we found 'em. Don't let my kid brother fool ya. If there's life left in that Tahoe, he can find it." He hooked an arm around his son's shoulders. "C'mon."

 

"Where y'all headed?" Lorenzo asked.

 

"Hunting for a crossbow in that hardware store," Nik said. "I'm not going too far from the bank."

 

Lorenzo laughed.

 

"Mr. Dixon—"

 

"Don't call me that," Daryl said. "I told you. Just call me Daryl."

 

Dominik glanced at his father. When Nik nodded, the boy said, "Um…Daryl, if we find a crossbow, would you mind teaching me how to use it?"

 

Daryl shrugged. "Sure."

 

"Thanks!"

 

"You don't got to thank me," Daryl said quickly. "I ain't done nothing, yet."

 

"Okay." Dominik pulled on his father. "C'mon, Dad. Sasha said she found arrows in the store. There gotta be a crossbow, too."

 

"Maybe," Nik said, "but we'll look."

 

"I'll come help in a minute," Lorenzo said. He turned back to Rick and Daryl. "Even if others come through, I doubt if they'll take it. We can keep looking."

 

Rick cocked his head to the side. "I like the size of it. Bank's got running water. We can clean it. Find some Lysol or something. Take care of that smell."

 

"You know we got plenty of room," Lorenzo said. "In my truck and the Explorer. The fit'll be tight, but we can make it work."

 

"We won't have room for the supplies if we all try to squeeze in," Rick said. "The Tahoe'll work. If y'all don't mind waiting a day or two."

 

"I don't have a problem with it," Lorenzo said. "We can figure stuff out at dinner? Dawn found rice. I promised to supply the meat."

 

"Not another boar," Daryl said.

 

Lorenzo laughed. "Rabbit or squirrel."

 

"Need to get 5 or 6 for this group," Daryl said.

 

"At least." Lorenzo saluted and jogged off in the direction of his brother and his nephew.

 

Rick tugged the end of his t-shirt over his mouth and reached inside to get the key. When he stepped out, he pocketed it and nodded toward the woods. "You hunting, too?"

 

"In a minute," Daryl said.

 

They headed back toward the main street and Daryl realized how easy being together again with Rick was. He couldn't remember being more relieved when he rushed inside that law office and saw the three of them still alive. Having the group split like it was felt off. Sasha finding him saved his life, but finding the other three made things better, too.

 

"They don't seem ready to let y'all go," Rick said quietly.

 

"Nik talk to ya?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Figured he would," Daryl said. "He's got a way about him. Kinda direct. Young in age, but old, ya know?"

 

"I wouldn't have put it that way, but I can see it," Rick admitted.

 

"We've been seeing the signs for that sanctuary."

 

"Terminus?"

 

Daryl nodded. "Signs are everywhere. Sasha thinks Tyrese could be there."

 

Rick's eyebrows lifted. "Is that the plan? The Cassidy's are down with this, too?"

 

"It ain't no plan," Daryl said. "Just talk. Ain't nobody sure about it. Reminds me of Woodbury and that fantasyland the Governor had. Reeks of bullshit."

 

"Sight unseen," Rick murmured.

 

"Huh?"

 

"Agreeing with you," Rick said. "We've seen the signs. I guess we've been following them, but we hadn't made a decision."

 

"Nik and Lorenzo want to check it out before going in," Daryl confided. "Don't seem like a bad idea."

 

"Nah, I agree with it," Rick said. "If we decide to do it. A few days of nothing will be good for Carl and Michonne."

 

"And you," Daryl said.

 

Rick nodded. "Speaking of…"

 

Daryl decided to make a run on a couple of nearby stores as Rick went back to the bank. They had taken anything of use from the Dollar General the night before but Daryl went back anyway. He had a way of finding uses for most things that others viewed as trash.

 

A discarded bucket was shoved under a register, as were rags. He found an old bottle of Pine-Sol in the closet with a mop that had seen better days. With everything in hand, he left the store. As he was coming out, Sasha left the bank. He called to her.

 

"Hey! Where ya goin'?"

 

"Are you serious?" she asked, raising her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes from the noon sun.

 

"Yep. Still stands. Ya not goin' nowhere alone." He dropped his stash on the sidewalk in front of the bank. "The toilets work inside so where ya headed?"

 

"I need some air," she said, giving him a pointed look. "Do you mind?"

 

He swallowed a laugh at the annoyed look she gave him. Maybe she didn't realize how appealing her frowns were. How her brown eyes brightened. And her mouth bowed just so. Daryl inhaled a sharp breath and just moved into step beside her.

 

"Damn," she mumbled with a hint of humor in her tone. "You don't let up."

 

"Nope."

 

"We're the only ones here," she said.

 

"We don't know that for sure. Better to be safe than stupid."

 

She narrowed her gaze at him. "That's your motto?"

 

"Today it is."

 

She shook her head. "Daryl Dixon."

 

"What?" he asked. "You always saying my name like there's someone else here."

 

She laughed outright then. "Just needed to stretch my legs. I'm not used to being cooped up anymore."

 

He nodded. Not much he could add to that anyway, so he changed the subject. "We found a car. Rick did. Chevy Tahoe."

 

"That's a big one. Where is it?"

 

"Airing out," he said. "Smells like… You know."

 

"Walkers?"

 

"Not quite," he said, "but close enough."

 

"What else have y'all been up to?" Sasha asked. "You know it's not fair that the men get to have all the fun and the women are left to cook and clean."

 

"That ain't what happened," he argued.

 

"That is what happened."

 

"I found a mop and a bucket."

 

"So?" she said.

 

"Yeah, so." They paused at the end of the block. Several yards ahead of them, the Cassidy men walked together. Daryl couldn't be sure, but it appeared that Dominik had found a crossbow.

 

Sasha jutted her chin toward them. "What's the deal? Are they with us or not?"

 

"They're with us."

 

"If I hang with them, I'm not technically alone."

 

Daryl grimaced. "Not technically."

 

"I have a message for Nik and you're busy with the mop and bucket," she said. "My knife's sharp." She held it for his inspection.

 

"Looks good," he muttered. "Fine. If that's what you want."

 

"See you in a few." She returned the knife to the sheath that she'd attached to her belt. With the back of her hand, she lightly brushed his arm. "Don't work too hard."

 

Daryl made sure to wait until she joined Nik and his son. The duo seemed happy to have her tag along. The uneasy feeling of jealousy pricked Daryl's gut. He turned away to retrieve his cleaning supplies. It would serve him better to keep busy than cloud his mind with thoughts on an unpredictable woman.

 

$%^&

 

Michonne stayed with Carl and enjoyed doing so. They ate breakfast together in the manager's office while listening to the muted sounds of the others as they came and went. After the constant drifting since the loss of the prison, she welcomed a day where nothing was required of her except tending to him. Not that she viewed looking after Carl as a requirement.

 

He had been cleaning his gun when he paused to glance at her. "I guess Dad thinks I need a babysitter."

 

She saved her place in the X-Men comic book to focus on him. At first, she denied how he tugged at her maternal instincts. Andre Anthony had been a toddler when she lost him. Comparing her baby to this preteen seemed ludicrous. If her son had lived, he and Carl would have been nothing alike. At least not in looks. In temperament, she couldn't say. Andre Anthony had a stubborn streak. When his mind was mind up, swaying him otherwise proved to be a task where the weak needed not apply. On the other hand, his sense of humor was infectious. Shadow puppets captured his attention within seconds and a shadow rabbit dancing on the wall would send him into a fit of giggles. Carl's stubbornness and humor reminded her of the child she lost and through him, she was able to remember her baby boy without anger or bitterness.

 

"Want to get out of here?" she asked, setting the comic and Wolverine's latest adventure aside.

 

Carl frowned. "Where?" He glanced toward the door.

 

Michonne looked up. "The roof. Fresh air. Warm sun. Your dad and Daryl checked it out yesterday. They cleared it."

 

The boy shrugged. Michonne took that as a yes. She slipped the strap of her katana over her head while he fitted his pistol into his holster. The door to the roof was at the end of the hall. Carl headed toward it.

 

"Be there in a minute," she said.

 

In the lobby, Dawn sat with a notebook and pen in hand. She flexed her fingers as she stared at the boarded windows.

 

"Hey," Michonne said.

 

Dawn blinked. "Hi. I was miles away."

 

"I didn't want to startle you."

 

"I'm okay." Dawn smiled. "Can I get you something? Does Carl want anything? We have bottled water…"

 

Michonne shook her head. "We're going to the roof. Just wanted someone to know in case his dad looks for us."

 

"Another Alpha," Dawn murmured.

 

"Huh?" Michonne frowned.

 

"Nothing. I'll tell him," Dawn said. "How's he doing?"

 

"He's okay. Quiet," she added with a shrug.

 

"Boys," Dawn said, understanding. "You?"

 

"I'm fine."

 

The roof offered just what they needed, Michonne decided. Fresh air and sunshine without the threat of walkers. Carl sat near the ledge, his legs dangling over the side. She did the same. From their position, the view of their block revealed a small square. A few walkers ambled in Daryl's direction as he washed a vehicle. He noticed and quickly felled them with his crossbow. After retrieving his arrows, he returned to work as if nothing happened.

 

She released a soft chuckle.

 

Carl looked at her. "Daryl?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Carl rubbed his palms along his jean-covered thighs as he stared across the horizon. "I thought we were dead and then Daryl busted through the back door. The other guys came through the front. But Dad… I never expected him to do that."

 

She nodded. "I don't think he expected to either."

 

"That man—he had me." Carl's voice cracked. "What he was gonna do to me…"

 

Michonne moved closer to him and waited.

 

"I don't know, Michonne," he said.

 

"What is there to know?" she asked. "We're here."

 

"I think I could've done it, too." Tears were now streaming down his face. "When you told them to hurt you and they were trying to see who'd go first, I wanted to gut them. I wanted to hurt them in the worst way. I wanted it to be slow and painful and the worst thing they ever knew."

 

"Carl…" She reached for his hand, but he moved to stand. She rose, too. As he backed away from her, she followed him.

 

"Killing them wasn't enough," Carl cried. "He said he was gonna use us to hurt Dad, but I saw his face. He wanted to hurt us just because. They were so ready to do th-things to you! So killing them just doesn't seem fair! Does that make me a monster, too?"

 

"No!" She opened her arms and he ran into them. As he cried, she hugged him to her. Finally, she told him everything about Andre Anthony. How she loved her baby boy and how he died. How her love for her child's father ended so quickly and what she did in the aftermath with her grief. She felt Carl stiffen and then squeeze her tighter as she whispered the details of her past against his brow. At the close, she said, "Sometimes, it's about survival. Your father isn't a monster. You're not one and I'm not either," she said. "This isn't the world we used to know. The rules have changed."

 

"I don't know what that means," Carl said.

 

"For people like the ones who grabbed us, it means freedom to do anything. For us, it means adapting."

 

"And family," Carl said. "We're family, Michonne."

 

She smiled.

 

"I love you," he said.

 

Her throat constricted. "Love you, too, Carl."

 

He hugged her again and kissed her cheek. He released her and looked toward the exit door. He said, "Dad."

 

"Hi," Rick said.

 

"I'm thirsty," Carl said before exiting the roof and leaving Michonne alone with his father.

 

Rick joined her. "Should I be jealous?" He wiped the tears from her cheek.

 

She shook her head.

 

"Think we should tell him or wait a little longer?" Rick asked.

 

"He's smart. He probably already knows," she said.

 

"In that case…" He moved behind her and closed his arms around her. "We found a car. It works. Found more ammo, too."

 

"Is Terminus the next stop?" Michonne asked.

 

"Not sure, yet. I'd rather check it out first. Don't want all of us going in at once. If it's bullshit, I want you and Carl safe."

 

"We'll come in and get you," she said.

 

"I know." Rick nuzzled her neck and held her close.

 

$%^&

 

Sasha paused a moment to admire the view. Oblivious to everything except potential walkers, Daryl worked the mop over the Tahoe like he was working out problems to save humanity. She knew that ogling the way his biceps flexed and his hips swayed to a soundless rhythm was wrong. The symptoms of his issues were obvious. Not that she could pinpoint what his deal was with touching—at first she chalked it up to race, but not anymore. Sasha supposed no one was immune to hang ups.

 

"Almost done?" she asked.

 

If she startled him, he played it off very well. He turned with a faint grin. "Yeah. You would show up when the hard work's over."

 

"I planned it right."

 

She moved away as he poured the dirty water from the bucket and wrung out the mop. He left the bucket near the Tahoe, but he kept a firm grip on the mop handle.

 

"It's a weapon," he said. "Not leaving it for someone to use on one of us."

 

He shouldered the crossbow and they headed back toward the bank. When he reached for the door handle, she grabbed his wrist and tugged. "Just leave the mop. Wanna show you something."

 

Daryl propped the mop against the double paned glass door and joined her as she crossed the street. She sensed the frown before she looked at his face. Reading him was easy. Already, he was trying to assess the ways she defied his orders of going off alone. Little did he know that Nik and Dominik had assisted her on this venture. Lorenzo on his return from hunting rabbit and squirrel also proved to be resourceful. They rounded a former shoe store and there was her surprise. Daryl stopped, mouth parted, and he stared.

 

"It's a Harley," he murmured.

 

"Yeah." She slipped the key from her pants pocket. She took his hand and carefully placed the key on his palm. "It's yours—"

 

Before she could say more, he pulled her into a rough hug. The scent of man and sweat filled her senses. The more Sasha spent time with Daryl, the more she found his unique fragrance appealing. His hands rubbed her shoulders and back. The feel of him against her felt good. It felt right. Sasha squeezed him tight. Her body tingled and she could feel her nipples tightening as he crushed her against his chest. Just as she began to enjoy the fit of her body to his, he released her and stepped back.

 

Humiliation burned. She spun away, but he caught her hand and pulled her to him. She tried to tug free, but he wouldn't let go.

 

"Don't, Daryl," she said.

 

"I'm not good at this," he confessed.

 

"Because I'm black?" she asked.

 

"No 'cause I'm me," he said. "I'm just not…" He sighed. Their gazes connected. His blue eyes were wary. "I'm not good at it."

 

"Felt good to me," she said.

 

He blushed and she gently brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. "Truth is, I'm not great at relationships either."

 

"I ain't talkin' 'bout relationships," he mumbled, looking at the ground. "Talkin' 'bout all of it. I don't know what you want, Sasha."

 

She hesitated before answering. Closing herself off had been a blessing and a curse, but it hadn't fulfilled her. The last few days with Daryl, pretending to be his and vice versa had been nice. Hell, better than nice. For so long, she'd feared wanting anything, but she was tired of that. "I don't know what you want, Daryl."

 

"Keep you safe for one," he said quickly.

 

She smiled. "You do that." She looked at where his hand had a firm grasp on hers. "I don't want to be afraid of this." She squeezed his hand. "I guess I don't want to pretend anymore."

 

"Me either," he said. "But I ain't good at it."

 

"Then we'll go slow while we figure it out," Sasha said.

 

He caressed her cheek for the briefest moment. Then, the wariness lifted. He gave her one of the brightest smile she'd ever seen on his face. "You bought that Harley just for me."

 

"Yeah. Sure."

 

"All I got you was a dumb knife." He tossed the keys in the air and caught them. "Guess I gotta do better."

 

She laughed. "I'm not keeping score."

 

"Sure you're not." Daryl strutted to the bike. "This thing works?"

 

"Lorenzo got it working—"

 

"I didn't hear the engine."

 

Sasha smirked. "It wouldn't have been a surprise if you had heard the engine. It works. Has gas. I'm still working a helmet."

 

"For you," he said. "I ain't wearing no helmet, but ya better get one. A pink one."

 

She rolled her eyes while he laughed. He climbed on. Seconds later, the engine purred to life. An image of pure bliss exuded from his face.

 

"Hop on."

 

Hesitation was out of the question. Sasha straddled in behind Daryl. Her arms wrapped snug around his waist. He rubbed his hand over hers. She felt him shudder, but the moment passed and he relaxed. Then, he gunned the engine and they were off. She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. The wind pushed them forward, and Sasha kept smiling.

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: First, my apologies for the length. It's much longer than I intended, but it does push the narrative forward. Future chapters will NOT be this long. After the events of "Tribute," a few things needed to be squared away and set into motion. Part 9 will focus on the merging of the two groups as they finalize their plan regarding Terminus. (Although I'm still on the fence about it. Lol!) As always, thank you all for reading, favoriting, following, and commenting/reviewing/kudoing. Your comments provide jewels of inspiration! Wishing everyone the happiest New Year ever! :-)]


	9. Part 9: Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The groups are figuring each other out as they merge into one and make plans regarding Terminus. The change in Daryl and Sasha's relationship continue to affect them as they make adjustments. Meanwhile, Rick discovers that there are layers to the mysterious Michonne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Before you begin the chapter, I would like for you to be aware that it's long. I've given up and I take back the assurances that were made in the previous note. I thank each of you for reading, following, favoriting, commenting and kudoing. However. Please be aware that there may be more crazy long @$$ chapters ahead. This is the only warning you will receive regarding this. Continue at your own risk. ☺]

Part 9: Decisions

 

Michonne heard that rabbit and squirrel were on the menu for dinner. After the somewhat brusque conversation she shared with Dawn earlier, Michonne went in search of the other woman to see if Dawn needed help. At the prison, someone else had handled the meals and other domestic responsibilities. Of course, Michonne helped out, but she wasn't viewed as the homebody type. Since being out in the open with Rick and Carl, she still had yet to display any culinary skills. As she sought Dawn out in the bank's former break room/kitchen, she wondered if the Grimes males had somehow determined that Michonne was deficient in that area. She had half a mind to show them her skills, such that they were.

 

"Hi," Dawn said. "The bottled water's in the bottom cabinet."

 

Michonne found the stash. Several cases filled the two shelves. The other cabinet contained bottled tea and Gatorade. Another had a box of DumDum lollipops. She released a low gasp. This was a gold mine.

 

"I guess when people ransacked the place they didn't think to check in here for edibles," Dawn said. She had the skinned rabbits and squirrels sitting in a pail of water. A cutting board and butcher knife were at hand. "You wouldn't believe what else I found."

 

"Coffee and oatmeal?" Michonne asked.

 

Dawn laughed. "Well, the oatmeal was found on a hunt way back when. The coffee was a good call. Check the top cabinet."

 

Michonne took a swig of water as she flipped the cabinet doors open. She smiled in spite of herself. Inside were some of the things she missed about the old days of before. A full box of sugar packets captured her attention first. Then there was the box of creamer packets as well as salt and pepper packets. Microwaveable popcorn, which could easily be popped over a fire. Packages of nuts and raisins. Peanut butter and crackers. Too many cans of coffee, both regular and decaffeinated, to count. Tea. God, how Michonne had missed tea. There were even several packages of Jell-O pudding and gelatin snacks. The refrigerator probably had been well stocked, too.

 

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Dawn asked.

 

"Yeah," Michonne said. "Haven't come across anything like this in a long time."

 

"My mom used to say, 'You never miss your water until your well runs dry.'" Dawn pulled a skinned squirrel from the sink and set it on the cutting board. "I get it now."

 

"I can help," Michonne said.

 

"Okay." Dawn handed the cutting board and knife to her.

 

When Dawn moved away from the counter, Michonne noticed the seasonings that lined the countertop. Garlic and onion powders. Old Bay Seasoning. Multiple dried pepper options. Oregano. Dried basil leaves, too. She pointed. "You found all that here?"

 

"Nah, just stuff we've acquired. If there's something you're allergic to or don't like, let me know. I tend to use a pinch of everything."

 

"The cayenne would be great," Michonne said. "I like it spicy."

 

Dawn laughed. "You and Lorenzo."

 

"Is this going on the grill or in a pot?" Michonne wanted to be sure of the best way to butcher the meat.

 

"Grill. Nik's playing chef tonight. I offered to prep." Dawn shrugged. "It helps to take my mind off things."

 

"I'm better with canned goods than fresh fare like this," Michonne confided.

 

"I always hated camping, but Nik loves it. So of course, our son does, too." Dawn sighed. "This new way of life will take the most steadfast prima donna to task."

 

"Prima donna?" Michonne bit back a chuckle. With the way Dawn handled the skinned rabbit and squirrel meat, the label didn't seem to fit.

 

Dawn laughed. "Well, obviously, not anymore. Not until we can settle someplace where we're away from…everything, you know?"

 

Michonne nodded. She understood perfectly. The prison had been that place for her group—no, her family—until the Governor brought his evil back to them and destroyed their home. Daryl had accused her of not being around enough to know the people, but at the time, she'd had her reasons for keeping a distance. It wasn't just the hunt for the Governor that made her stay aloof from the newcomers. She had feared attachments.

 

"It's a good idea that we're hanging out here for a few days," Dawn was saying as she seasoned the meat after Michonne handed her the butchered pieces. "The rest will do you all some good."

 

Michonne remained quiet as she helped Dawn transfer the meat to an aluminum pan. Part of her wondered at the woman's resourcefulness. Also, she was surprised by how easy the conversation had been. She had sought Dawn out with the intention of getting a feel for the Cassidy family and she was confident that she had. They would have been welcomed at the prison.

 

"What those men—those _animals_ had planned for you and your family wasn't right," Dawn said. "We've tried to avoid the lawless ones, but hell, what is law now, right? There is no law, but still, some things should remain off limits."

 

The memory of Chubs pinning Carl to the ground came to mind and Michonne grimaced. "Some things should."

 

"Nik accuses me of talking too much, but I have to say this…"

 

Michonne nodded. "Go ahead."

 

"Y'all need a minute to deal with that. Sasha told me a little about what happened at your prison, and she briefly mentioned her brother. When we lost our first camp, it messed with me for weeks. I tried to pretend for Dom and for Nik, but I was fucked up. We lost a lot of good people," Dawn said.

 

Michonne agreed quietly. "Good people are hard to come by."

 

"Another plus to the time off is that it will give us time to get to know each other before we move forward."

 

Michonne grabbed the tray of rabbit meat while Dawn followed with the tray of squirrel. In the hall, they walked beside each other and the conversation shifted from less serious discussion to hair. Dawn's questions about dreadlocks made Michonne smile, as she was more than happy to focus on something less harrowing than walkers and other potential threats. By the time they reached the grill area where Nik waited, Michonne decided that traveling with this family would be different but not in a bad way at all.

 

$%^&

 

Riding a Harley-Davidson, even a vintage model like the one Daryl just parked in the back supply room, had been the last thing he expected to do that day, but the ride through town had been stuff of dreams. He'd only be fooling himself if he denied that the best part was the feel of Sasha all around him. Her arms at his waist and her thighs pressing against his made him hot even now at least an hour later. Sleep would come slow tonight. Hell, he might as well volunteer for night watch and be prepared to be up until sunrise.

 

Their newfound understanding brought some ease to the situation. At least, he wasn't alone in the wanting. But damn, he never thought someone like Sasha Williams would want a man like him. He stepped outside and took a deep breath of the late afternoon fall air. Now that they were done pretending, he'd have to figure this out. He told her that he didn't know shit about relationships, but that didn't scratch the surface.

 

Friendship was one thing and he was cool with that. But to be _her_ man, _for real_? And for her to be _his_ _woman_? He rubbed his hand over his face. He wanted this, but damned if he knew what to do. _She has no idea about me_ , he thought. All she saw was a redneck with a crossbow—No, that was Merle or their Pops talking. Sasha never looked at him that way or talked down to him. This could work. They could work. He just couldn't let her rush him.

 

"Hey!" Lorenzo appeared from behind him. "I didn't mean to startle you. Rick and I are heading back to check on the Tahoe. Wanna come?"

 

"Food's smelling good," Daryl said, noticing the aroma for the first time. "Is Dawn on the grill?"

 

"Nik," Lorenzo said. "He's still Grillmaster."

 

"Yeah, I'll come."

 

He and Lorenzo secured the rear exit by nailing the doors shut and boarding the windows. When they walked through the bank, Daryl was surprised to find Sasha nowhere in sight. Dawn and Michonne were comparing weaponry. Nik and Dominik sat near the grill and it looked like Dominik was having school. Carl's absence from the lobby made him wonder if the boy was joining them. Still, curiosity nagged him about Sasha's whereabouts. Where the hell was she?

 

"You seen Sasha?" he asked while Lorenzo slid his tire iron through his belt loop.

 

"She's here," Lorenzo said. "I think she grabbed some soap and towels and headed to the restroom."

 

Daryl nodded. "Okay."

 

"Nik!" Lorenzo called. "We're leaving."

 

Nik walked them to the door. When they met Rick on the sidewalk, Daryl could hear Nik on the other side of the door closing it tight.

 

"Where's Carl?" Daryl asked.

 

"Reading comics in the office," Rick said. "He didn't want to come."

 

The walk to the Chevy Tahoe was short and filled with minimal conversation. Everybody seemed lost in their own ruminations. Daryl didn't like that a woman consumed his thoughts so, but there was so much left unsaid between him and Sasha. There were too many ways that everything could go wrong. If he had any sense, he'd tell her that they were crazy. Pretending was one thing. Reality was… It could be more than he could handle.

 

"Daryl?" Rick extended his hand for the keys. He caught them and unlocked the driver door. "The outside looks good."

 

"Just some ole Pine-Sol and a sorry ass mop," Daryl said. "I'm not sure if it helped the inside, though."

 

"Let's find out."

 

Rick opened the driver door. The three men braced themselves, but the move was for naught. The smell of industrial cleaner masked the odor of dead animal. Rick nodded and smiled.

 

Lorenzo said, "Let's see if it has any juice."

 

Rick claimed the driver seat and turned the ignition. Nothing happened at first. Lorenzo and Daryl went under the hood. After adjusting a few wires and plugs, they told Rick to try again. He did and the engine came to life.

 

Daryl opted for shotgun. Lorenzo took the back seat. He leaned forward and asked, "What did you think of Sasha's find?"

 

Daryl stiffened without catching himself.

 

"What did she get?" Rick asked.

 

"A Harley," Lorenzo said. "You know you got a good woman when she hunts down a vintage hog for you."

 

"Stop," Daryl mumbled, chewing his thumb. From the corner of his eye, he felt Rick's stare wander from the road to him.

 

The scrutiny was more frustrating than Lorenzo's teasing. Daryl kept his gaze on the passing scenery.

 

"The engine's sweet. I had one in college. I'd trade it for my pickup in a heartbeat."

 

"Not on your life," Daryl said.

 

Lorenzo laughed. "Can't blame a man for trying." He added, "You know she was real insistent about the particulars. I didn't know what we were gonna do if we hadn't found it."

 

"It's a good bike," Daryl said. He stored the rest to think on later. For now, he focused on the tangible. "It's a different ride than the last one I had. You tune up the engine?"

 

"Did my best," Lorenzo said.

 

"Good job."

 

Rick smiled and for a moment, he and Daryl looked eye to eye. A few minutes later, they had parked the Tahoe in front of the bank, having backed it up to the door for a quick getaway if needed. Despite the mop down, an odor still persisted. It wasn't lethal, but after a long drive, the smell could become sickening. Lorenzo volunteered to get air fresheners from his sister-in-law.

 

"No way," Daryl said in disbelief.

 

"Don't ask," Lorenzo said. "Be right back."

 

Daryl reached inside his jacket for a smoke. Instead of a small box of cigarettes, he pulled out the condoms that Nik had given him. "Shit," he mumbled. He had forgotten they were there.

 

Rick's eyebrows lifted. "Um…it's good to see Sasha. Specifically, it's good to see her with you."

 

Daryl felt the heat flood his face and he knew that he was bright, blood red. He nodded. Inside, he appreciated Rick's sentiment, but he wasn't ready. It was too soon. He moved to stuff the box back inside his jacket pocket, but Rick stopped him.

 

"Did you get those at the clinic or the pharmacy?"

 

"Uh…" Daryl swallowed hard. "Got 'em before we came here."

 

Rick frowned. "Oh," he said with a nod. "Yeah."

 

Daryl tore into the box and pulled out half. He handed them to Rick. His friend pocketed the foil packets and both tried to appear cool about the situation.

 

Daryl found the confidence to say, "Don't ask, don't tell, right?"

 

Rick nodded. "Sure. Thanks, man."

 

"No problem."

 

$%^&

 

The fallen world called for a man to be hyper aware of his surroundings. Cooking the meat demanded that Nik afforded the makeshift grill some attention. Bank security created a particular thickness of the walls and windows. Although he had seen a couple of corpses ambling past the front door, he didn't hear their usual grumbling. That was a gift, but not as precious as the smiles on his wife's face as she chatted with Michonne. After their earlier conversation about their daughter Noelle when Dawn wept in his arms, he wondered if her smile would be lost to him for a while. He was relieved to see that her recovery time had shortened.

 

He flipped the meat over and paused. Again, his focus was drawn to his wife and the soft, yet indistinguishable tones of her voice. From this distance, their conversation was a mystery, but when Dawn touched one of Michonne's dreadlocks, he wondered if she was planning to go through on her threat. Not that he had anything against the hairstyle. It looked great on Michonne. Nik loved Dawn the way she was and he didn't mind hearing her complaints about maintaining her natural hair under "these circumstances." But between her shaving her head or locking her hair, he'd style her hair himself.

 

"Dad?" Dominik tugged on his arm. "Are we done?"

 

Nik laid the fork aside and indicated that he and Dominik would return to their setup at the table. They sat on the floor. The day's lesson was on Nik's specialty, the American Civil War. In his former life, Nik was working toward tenure as a history professor at Vanderbilt University. At first, he wondered how his background could be useful to his family. Lorenzo's mechanical engineering degree had saved them more times than Nik could count, but what use was extensive knowledge about the past. Until he realized that living in this rustic lifestyle came easy to him because he had studied it. He could build a fire and fashion weapons out of anything. And he had a good understanding of the human psyche in trying circumstances and what the potential outcomes were. These were the lessons that he insisted on instilling in Dominik. His son wanted to talk about leadership, mistakes, and victories. Nik used their talks to emphasize how they can use the past to be prepared for whatever the future held.

 

"Hey." Carl joined them with comic books in hand. "What're you doing? Is that schoolwork?"

 

"We're going on a book run in the morning," Dominik said. "You should come if your dad's cool with it."

 

Carl frowned. "What's a book run?"

 

"We hit the libraries. Return our books and get new ones." Nik smiled at Dominik. "Some are for fun, right? Most of the time, the libraries haven't been touched."

 

Dominik shrugged. "But there has to be a balance."

 

"A balance?" Carl asked.

 

"Between the fun books and the stuff for 'broadening my mind,'" Dominik said, imitating the quotation marks with his fingers..

 

"Think we'll find comic books?" Carl asked. He glanced at Nik, who laughed.

 

Dominik grinned. "Yeah, sometimes."

 

"I wanna come," Carl said. "I'll ask my dad when he gets back."

 

After he left, Nik returned to the lesson. The Battle of Hoke's Run could have been a more decisive victory, if the Union officers had been instructed to press forward. "If the world returns to order, understanding the mistakes of the past will be crucial."

 

"We have to figure out what makes the dead keep living," Dominik said. "Not conspiracy theories, but the truth so it doesn't happen again."

 

Nik reached inside his folder and handed Dominik his paper on Andersonville, the Confederate prison camp that his son had written while they were camped near the lake. "I'm proud of you, son. The paper was constructed well and your argument was compelling. Here's your math homework. Class is dismissed."

 

"Can I practice with the crossbow when they get back?"

 

The eager expression on Dominik's face reminded Nik of his daughter that he had to catch himself. He swallowed hard before responding. "Don't bother Daryl yet. Let him get reacquainted with his family first."

 

"Okay." Dominik gathered his books and headed toward the manager's office.

 

Nik returned to the grill. He preferred the meat to be cooked slow and even. As he was contemplating the next batch of squirrel and rabbit, a distinctive pinch to his rear took his mind off culinary concerns. He reached behind him and pulled Dawn into his arms. "I know what you're up to. I have plans for you."

 

"Oh really?" she asked, sliding her arms around him.

 

"Really," he said. "Wicked plans to sidetrack your shenanigans."

 

"Sounds like my kind of party." She brushed her mouth against his. "But tell me where because you tend to get loud when you're being devious."

 

"The roof. You. Me. A few candles and a sleeping bag," he said. "Does that work for you?"

 

"It'll be cold up there."

 

"I'll bring the heat."

 

$%^&

 

The make-do bath had been just what Sasha needed, but she had to laugh at herself. She left the restroom smelling fresh and clean only to have the bright idea to go on a pseudo-run inside the bank. Maybe rummaging for supplies inside the space wouldn't alter her state of cleanliness. She hoped. After days of travel and not having a regular bathing schedule until they found the Cassidy camp, Sasha had told herself that she didn't mind the build-up of dirt under her nails or the collection of grime that made her neck and back itch. She supposed the prison had spoiled her, but the truth that she was pained to admit was that this part of their lives still came as a struggle for her.

 

They discovered the day before that the bank was two stories, but after rescuing their people, nobody wanted to separate for the night. Of course, they cleared the building. Seeing all the Cassidy clan in action was an eye-opener. For some reason, Sasha wasn't sure if Dawn could hold her own, but to her surprise, Dawn took the lead up the staircase and brained two walkers with her ax without flinching. Dominik proved just as capable as the rest of them. It had been strange to see a kid as skilled as Carl. Sasha had believed their group was special, but no one could survive this long without going in deep. And for a family to maintain themselves as a unit… Sasha was happy for them because their situation was rare.

 

Sasha grabbed an empty trash bag from the kitchen/break room and headed to the second floor. They had removed the annihilated walkers and left the windows open to air out the stench. Chilly air greeted her, but she knew that the more she moved, the more the breeze would become welcomed. Most of the rooms were typical office fare—desks, chairs, filing cabinets, etc. Nothing interesting or worth salvaging. In a few closets, she found discarded clothing, such as sweaters and jackets. There were even leftover gym bags. The Nike sneakers looked brand new. She preferred boots, but she wondered if the shoes would fit one of the boys. Of course, Carl would have first dibs.

 

The trash bag soon filled with her treasure find of clothes, granola snack bars, bottled water, the sneakers, and even a romance novel. She began to head back downstairs, but she paused at the conference room. There had been nothing of value there except for the huge table and a few chairs. She dropped the bag at the door and slid onto the tabletop. The hardness did nothing for her back, but with the sleeping bags and pillow, this would make for a good place to lay her head that night.

 

"Hey."

 

She started at Daryl's sudden appearance in the doorway. "Hey, yourself. How's the truck?"

 

"Fine," he said. "It's parked out front." He came fully into the room. "You nappin'?"

 

"Pondering," she said, rolling onto her side to look at him. He had pulled a chair from the table and propped his feet into another one. His steady blue-eyed gaze drew her in and she smiled.

 

He smirked before he began to chew his bottom lip. "Ponderin' what?"

 

"Bunking here. With the sleeping bags, it won't be so bad. Better than the counter."

 

He nodded. "Suppose so."

 

"That's all you have to say?"

 

"What else is there?"

 

"Do you think it would be more comfortable?"

 

Daryl shrugged and shifted. His gaze wandered around the room before settling on the wall behind her. "Sure, why not? If that's what you want."

 

Irritated, Sasha sat up and nudged his chair. "Not just for me. I thought… Well, you can stay, too. Unless you like sleeping on that hard ass countertop."

 

"It ain't the worst place I ever slept." He stood abruptly and headed to the window.

 

His stance was tense. Sasha wondered about the angel wings on his back taking flight. She thought if that were possible, he'd leave just to avoid this moment. But since he didn't storm out the door, she held her judgments inside.

 

"Lorenzo is really handy with mechanics," she said. "Dawn seems to like cooking. The boys are getting along, too—"

 

"I don't want to talk about that," he muttered, his back still to her.

 

"Maybe I should go and help open cans or something."

 

"Don't," he mumbled softly. "Hold on a minute."

 

"If I said something wrong, I won't know unless you tell me," Sasha replied. "You're not the easiest person to read."

 

"You ain't either," he muttered as he finally turned to face her. "I don't ever know what the hell you're thinkin'."

 

"You asked and I told you."

 

_Are we seriously fighting now?_ Sasha thought as she stared at him. Thoughts churned inside her mind at his current state of agitation. The Harley ride had been so special and different. They had gone for miles. Although she couldn't see his face, she felt his happiness. And no, that wasn't wishful thinking. Daryl had been as happy as she was. They laughed and talked and simply enjoyed the freedom of the wide-open space. What happened?

 

"Have you changed your mind?" Somehow, she kept her voice neutral and void of hurt and disappointment. There wasn't even an edge to the question. She silently prided herself on the conversational tone when she felt anything but.

 

"About what?"

 

"Dammit, Daryl!"

 

"I ain't changed my mind 'bout nothin'." He stated firmly. "Just…you sure about this?"

 

"Sleeping here?" His expression remained blank until she added, "With you?"

 

He folded his arms across his chest as he nodded.

 

"Yeah," she said softly. "I am. It's not like we haven't done it before. In the Explorer."

 

"That was different."

 

"Was it?" she asked. "Really? Not for me."

 

"Me neither."

 

Sasha extended her hand and he came to her. They held hands in the room, getting a different feel for each other's touch. His breathing came rushed. She longed to place her hand on his chest, but she wasn't sure if he was ready. Instead, she pushed his hair from his face and just stared up at him.

 

"It's just sleep," she said, softly. "That's all."

 

He frowned. His face darkened with embarrassment. "It ain't that I don't know how."

 

"Never thought otherwise," she said, "but for now, just sleep."

 

He lightly ran his fingertips along her jaw. "Fine. If sleep is all you want."

 

She grinned. "I didn't say that."

 

"This is our room," he said, looking around and nodding. "It's plenty big enough for all the jabbering you like to do before you nod off."

 

"Daryl Dixon."

 

He gave her a half smile. "I'm the only one here."

 

$%^&

 

With every door and window accounted for with sufficient fortification, they decided to have a sit down dinner in the conference room. Rick chuckled as Sasha discretely pointed to hers and Daryl's stuff in the corners. _Okay_ , he thought, _we got it. The room was theirs and dinner was just an in and out thing_. All the dinner guests were comfortable with a plate of grilled meat, mashed potatoes, and baked beans sitting before them. Rick sat between Carl and Michonne, allowing himself the pleasure of family surrounding him.

 

Conversation was delayed as everyone ate. Lorenzo called his brother Grillmaster, and Rick understood why. The taste of the meal reminded him of dinners at Hershel's farm and even before that when he and the guys had cookouts before ballgames. He complimented the Cassidy's on the dinner and Carl mumbled the same as he dug into his meat.

 

"Thanks," Dawn said. "I won't take credit for it, but I know Nik will."

 

Her husband nodded as she laughed. "Sure will," he said.

 

"It's the seasoning," Dawn said.

 

"Seasonings plural," Michonne added. "Their stash is unbelievable."

 

Rick smiled at seeing the light in his woman's eyes. He had seen the two women talking when he and the guys returned with the Tahoe. They were playing with each other's hair like teenagers. It was a good surprise to see Michonne unguarded yet having a deep conversation that didn't include strategy or staying alive. Hearing her laugh made him believe that all was not lost. Not when he had her and his boy beside him. He had reasons to keep going.

 

"You should see her shampoo collection," Sasha piped in.

 

Daryl coughed until his face reddened. Lorenzo handed him a bottle of water. "You okay, man?"

 

"Fine," Daryl muttered. "Piece went down wrong."

 

Sasha's tiny smile didn't go unnoticed by Rick nor the swift glance the two exchanged with each other. Damn, he liked seeing that, too. Michonne touched his thigh.

 

"What is it?" she murmured for his ears only.

 

"Tell you later," he promised.

 

"Now, that everyone's gotten their fill," Lorenzo said, standing from his seat at the end of the table, "let's talk about this." He pulled a map from his back pocket and unfolded it on the center of the table.

 

"Terminus," Daryl said.

 

"Yeah," replied Lorenzo. "I pulled this off a post when I was out hunting. Thought it'd be good idea to get a closer look and see what we're dealing with."

 

Rick slid the map to him. All lines pointed to the supposed safe haven. Everything about the map seemed simple. He was reminded of Dorothy and the yellow brick road. No Oz waited for her and her friends at the end of their destination. Only a little man made big by his lies.

 

"It's so welcoming, isn't it?" Michonne said.

 

"Remember that broadcast we heard?" Daryl said, looking across the table at her. "Back when we were on that run for the meds."

 

"Yeah." She nodded.

 

"Broadcast?" Everyone except Michonne, Daryl, and Sasha repeated.

 

"Came over the radio," Daryl said. "We were drivin'."

 

"Then a herd came through," Michonne added. "I had forgotten about it until now."

 

"If they have the means to broadcast," Nik said, "they could be legit."

 

Dawn frowned. "I don't know, babe. Look at the notes on here. How hard they're advertising this place?"

 

"Feels fishy," Rick said, making eye contact with her.

 

"That's the G-rated version of what I was thinking," Dawn said.

 

"Mama!" Dominik shook his head.

 

The adults laughed, but Carl and Dominik nodded in solidarity. Rick looked over the map again. The wording was just too damn welcoming. His gut warned against trusting it, but—

 

"Some of our people could be there," he stated simply. "If they saw these signs, they'd go there, looking for the rest of us."

 

"Looking for a safe place," Daryl added.

 

"Beth could be there," Sasha said.

 

"Or Tyrese," Daryl said. He looked at Rick as he said, "Even Carol."

 

Rick didn't want to respond to that, so he turned to the most important issue now. "I'd rather wait a couple of days."

 

"Before we leave?" Michonne asked, "Or before we go in?"

 

"Before a few of us check out the place," Rick said pointedly.

 

"We can't forget about Lee and Aaron," Carl said. "There's that woman they were talking about, too. They want women. They want Michonne."

 

"Clay and Nash," Nik said, "are out there, too. They were on foot the last time we saw them, but that doesn't mean they still are."

 

"It's too many threats out there and they're personal," Lorenzo said. "I don't like it. Maybe Terminus is the solution. It could be fortified. It could be a safe haven. Maybe we've become too jaded."

 

Dawn shook her head. She touched her son's forearm. "Can't ever become too jaded. Being cautious has kept us alive. It's kept us together."

 

"Rick was talking about us splittin' up before," Daryl said. "We shouldn't all go in."

 

"This can't be one of those things were the men go in and the women are left twiddling their thumbs," Sasha argued. "My brother could be there. I'm in. Period."

 

"I'm in," Carl said quickly.

 

"Dominik isn't," Dawn said.

 

Rick added, "Carl ain't either."

 

"Dad!" Carl's voice deepened. "I'm not a little kid. I can handle myself. You can't shelter me—"

 

"I agree!" Dominik added.

 

"It's about keeping you both safe," Rick said.

 

"But—"

 

"Wait, stop," Lorenzo interrupted. "Parents still make decisions. With half of us going and the other half staying, we'll need you and Carl prepared to stand guard."

 

Carl looked ready to protest, but Michonne gave him a hard look. Rick was surprised at how quickly his son backed down.

 

"Let's wait another day," Rick said. "Get more ammo and weapons. We can work out a specific plan."

 

"We're still a few miles from Terminus," Nik said. "We should find a closer place to set up HQ."

 

Rick nodded. "Yeah, sounds good."

 

Later, Rick cornered Carl in the manager's office. His son seemed apprehensive at first until Rick sat on the desk and waited.

 

"Can I go on a book run with Dom and his dad?"

 

"What's that?" Rick asked.

 

Carl explained the details. His expression became animated at the thought of more comics and maybe finding some that Michonne hadn't read.

 

"Fine but one of us goes, too."

 

Carl sighed, but he agreed.

 

"Um…" Rick said slowly, unsure how to begin. "We haven't talked about yesterday. About what happened. I saw you with Michonne, but I'm here, too."

 

His son looked down at the carpeted floor. "I know, Dad. It's in the past, though." He raised his head and his blue eyes were clear, untroubled. "I'd rather just leave it there. We're okay now. That's enough."

 

Inside, Rick disagreed. He had worked with sexually assaulted victims numerous times. The thought that his son had been attacked, although he was not molested, bothered Rick. The bastard was dead, but what if something lingered inside Carl? What if there was something Rick needed to say or do? There were no rape hotlines to call or therapists to consult. He had no way of knowing that he was doing the right thing by letting it go.

 

"Dominik wants to swap comics," Carl said. "He's waiting…"

 

"Go ahead."

 

Rick watched Carl leave but he wasn't any more assured than he had been by Carl's statement of being fine. Still, his son's eyes had been steady. The fear and anxiety that had been there before was gone. Maybe his best move would be to trust that Carl knew his own mind better than Rick.

 

The scent of coconuts and the tropics hit Rick the moment Michonne returned. She had converted a t-shirt into a turban and pulled her hair inside. The contrast of the white cotton against her smooth ebony skin made him breathless. Hot damn, she was beautiful. Then his gaze travelled down to take in the white tank top and matching men's boxers that she wore. He swallowed hard, convinced that she knew the effect she was having on him.

 

"I thought you were playing checkers with Lorenzo," she said, her voice husky.

 

"I'd rather play with you." He stood in front of her. His hands rested low on her hips as he drew her close.

 

"You know we can't." She tossed her dirty laundry onto the pile against the wall. She flattened her hands against his chest.

 

"You smell… _good_. It's driving me crazy." Rick heard her breath catch a second before he licked her neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her earlobe. His cock throbbed inside his jeans. He rubbed himself between her hard thighs. Her gasps turned to murmurs.

 

"Carl could come back." She pulled back to cup his face and search his eyes. He wondered what she saw there because she licked her lips and sighed.

 

"Is that the only reason?" He held her close, staring in her brown eyes when all he wanted to do was so much more.

 

"Um…" She frowned and looked down.

 

He reached inside his jeans pockets and took a step back so that he could hand her the condoms.

 

Her frown deepened. "Rick…"

 

"I didn't want you to find them," he said. "It's obvious I want you. You want me, too."

 

When she didn't deny it, he continued, "It's been awhile?"

 

She nodded slowly. "Yeah."

 

"But that's not the only reason," he said.

 

"No," she said with a shake of her head.

 

"I won't hurt you—"

 

"I know." She rubbed his beard with the pads of her thumb. "I know you, Rick."

 

He waited for her to say more. The last few days had been a whirlwind. Their relationship had changed. They had been captured. They were back with part of their family. But he knew that more than the obvious troubled Michonne.

 

The changes had been fast for him, too. Kissing her had been one of the best decisions he'd made. One he didn't regret. They should have been able to process that before assholes grabbed them and threatened to rape her and his son.

 

Wanting to make love to her was a given. Her responses to him—which included the pebble-hard nipples that poked her top and distinctive fragrance of her arousal—assured him that his desire was not one-sided. In so many ways, she was a go-getter. This hesitation warmed him in a different way, making him want to protect her. Even from himself.

 

Rick nodded toward the condoms that she clutched in her hand. "When you're ready."

 

"Soon," she said quietly, moving to stuff the contraceptives into her bag. "Soon."

 

"I won't rush you." He grabbed his toiletries and fresh underwear. "Gotta find the equivalent to a cold shower, though."

 

She smiled.

 

"Um…"

 

"What?" She shrugged into a clean shirt and fastened the middle buttons.

 

"Mind if we find our own spot and let the boys have this," Rick suggested. "I'll sleep on the floor. You can have the chair or table or whatever."

 

"The assistant manager's office is down the hall—"

 

"Think Dawn and Nik took it?" Rick asked.

 

Michonne grinned. "They're on the roof tonight."

 

Rick nodded. "Oh."

 

"I'll take our stuff over and let the boys know," she offered.

 

Rick pulled her to him as she was about to walk past. His kiss was slow, deep, and thorough. When they parted, she caressed his bottom lip with her index finger. "Soon."

 

He watched her chat with the boys. Their eyes widened at the sight of her. Even from a distance, Rick knew she had their rapt attention. He smiled to himself because he couldn't fault them at being mesmerized. Even Lorenzo's jaw had dropped as he set up the board for another game with either his nephew or Carl. Rick was okay with them looking at her—respectfully—but she was his. And he was hers. He reasoned it had been that way since the first day they met. From the other side of the fence, her eyes had held his and he couldn't move. Back then he hadn't been ready, so it was easier for him now to give her the time to catch up. Rick prided himself on his patience. Michonne was a woman worth waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Cont'd. I enjoy hearing from you and can't thank you enough for the response to this story! If you haven't already, check out my other Richonne/Dasha fic, "A New Day." It's a completed story with 3 chapters that show that my work is not always subjected to longwindedness. (Yes, that's a word now.) Only a month until the return of our beloved Richonne back onscreen. Rumors are abound about what's ahead, but I'm a firm believer that Richonne is endgame. The set up began in s3 and the slow build has continued with every scene they share. It's time to bring it.


	10. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions occur at the oddest moments. What happens when guards are dropped and feelings are allowed to be released.

Over time, there were plenty of little things a person allowed herself to forget when survival became the most important part of her every day. One was the soothing comfort of nighttime reading with music playing in the background. Sasha could have grabbed a book from the prison library and curled on her bed in the cell, but taking time to read back then never felt right. Serving on Council had taken a lot of her time. Not that she minded. Her service provided a sense of normalcy for the others who weren't able to go on runs or face the ruins of the outside world. But lying there now with the romance novel tucked close and Dawn's iPod playing on battery-operated speakers, Sasha released a soft sigh and allowed herself a brief respite in the simplicity of the moment.

The exploits of the main characters, Toya and Donovan, engaged her imagination, but they weren't enough to make Sasha oblivious to Daryl's arrival. The scent of soap and toothpaste drifted in with him. She had to smile. Everyone was enjoying the running water. Another little thing that she used to take for granted. 

His shadow danced with the flickering candlelight in an offbeat to Blackstreet's "No Diggity." She swallowed a giggle and redirected her attention to the printed page. Daryl, as gruff as he could be, still was surprisingly tender. The time with him had been a lesson. In the past, she would have run from a man like him. Back then, she was a different woman. She would have been too impatient to see all the layers and appreciate them. Now, she realized that there's a good chance she had only scratched the surface of what Daryl Dixon had to offer. 

She heard him wrestling with the trashcan. A moment later, a small blaze burned. He lingered near it, as he asked, "Ain't you cold?"

"I guess I won't be anymore," she said.

"You hot?"

She shook her head. "Nah, cool, but I hadn't noticed until you brought it up."

"Sorry."

But she saw the smirk playing at his mouth. She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Sure, you are."

"What you reading?" He set his jacket on the credenza. He looked hesitant about taking off anything else. "Where's that music coming from?"

She pointed to the iPod/speaker that rested on a nearby chair. They were partially hid by her bag and sweater. "Right here. Got a special request? It's filled to the max."

He came over and stared. "Where'd ya find it?"

"I didn't," she said. "Dawn loaned it to me."

"She's got som' of everythin'," he murmured. "Where she keep it all?"

Sasha shrugged. "I wish I knew. Good thing we ran into them."

Chewing his bottom lip, he nodded. The uncertain expression crossed his face again. Sasha held her place in the book with her finger. This was the thing about Daryl that got to her. In her family, everyone was blunt. There was no holding back. Normally, he was, too. To see him hesitate with her in their private space was troubling. Didn't he know her by now?

"If you're ready to sleep, I'll put the book away," she offered.

"You ain't gotta stop," he muttered as he moved around the table to claim the spot closest to the door. Before he joined her, he set his crossbow within range. She noticed that the knife remained attached to his pants. Hers was under the pillow. After much adjusting, he finally reclined beside her. 

Sasha rolled onto her back, but she resisted the urge to look at him. At least for the moment. 

"Whatcha readin'?"

She turned the racy book cover toward him. His laugh made her smile. "It's good," she said.

"I never took ya for someone who'd read somethin' like that."

"It's not just sex." She glanced at him and found him watching her. "There's a story. It's about two people connecting despite a lot of bullshit from those who don't want them together. And…the heroine is a firefighter. For once, the writer got the details right."

His eyes widened. "Yeah?" 

Sasha's breath caught. She realized too late that she had said too much. She nodded and was about to return to reading or bid him goodnight, but he nudged her arm.

"That's what ya did before, right?" he asked. "Pretty little Sasha on the big red truck."

"Hush." She giggled despite herself.

"Was there a lot of bullshit?" He was serious now. His gaze pierced her, as he seemed invested in her answer. 

"There was some."

He nodded. "There's always some."

She folded the corner of the page she was on and set the book beside the iPod. Then she rolled toward Daryl. He inched away, and she worked on not taking offense. Half-propping herself on her side and bent elbow, she waited for him to relax at her proximity. In her mind, she likened him to a skittish fox. Ever watchful and ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"What did you do before?" she asked.

"You don't want to hear 'bout me," he said quietly. "Can't compare to a firefighter, that's for sure."

"We're not competing," she said. "Daryl?"

"Somebody else here?"

"Stop with that."

They both laughed. He said, "Huh?"

"I want to touch you, but I want you to be okay if I do," she said.

He frowned as he averted his eyes. "You act like I'm scared. I don't care."

"I didn't say you were scared, but we're not pretending anymore. So that means, we're honest with each other."

"I ain't lied to ya."

"I'm gonna put my hand here." She pointed to his chest a second before she flattened her palm against his rapidly beating heart. "Okay?"

"I ain't scared of ya, Sasha." He drew in a quick breath and covered her hand with his. "You know I ain't scared of ya, right?"

"I didn't think it was me," she said. 

"And I ain't got no problems with..." He paused, "ya know... I don't want ya to think that 'bout me."

She frowned at first, unsure of what he was referring to. When their stares held, understanding came slowly.

"What you said before," he murmured gruffly. "I ain't like that. Maybe I said some dumb shit in the past, but that was a long time ago. I don't want ya thinking that 'bout me."

"I don't. I know you're not a jackass racist sack of shit."

Her affirmation didn't elicit a smile or a response. He continued to stare and she wasn't surprised or unnerved by the silence. After a while, he took the conversation back to her earlier question. "I wasn't much of nothin'."

"I don't believe tha—"

"Believe it," he cut in. "I wasn't 'bout nothin' but followin' Merle around. Doin' whatever he wanted. Goin' wherever he wanted to go. It wasn't much of a life. Not like what you had."

"Mine wasn't that special," she said. 

"Mine was a waste," he muttered. "That kid Zack thought I was a homicide detective. Imagine some redneck like me with a badge, runnin' round solving crimes and arrestin' folks and shit. Yeah, right."

"You do alright, Daryl," she said. "You have the skills of a detective so I get why he would think that. He wasn't slighting you."

"I know."

"I can't say much about everything you and Merle were up to," she said with a smile, which he returned, "but I know that without you many of us would've starved and some would've just died. Forget the starving."

"You're just sayin' that," he murmured, his blue eyes soft as they bored into hers.

"Why would I do that?"

"'Cuz I'm your boyfriend."

She laughed so loud that she covered her mouth. His grinned at her until she shook with giggles. 

"You still cold?" he asked.

"A little," she said, after she sobered and wiped the tears from her eyes.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. With his other hand, he pulled the sleeping bag over them. "This better?" 

"Yeah," she murmured, resting her head on his chest. A slight shudder went through him. She waited for it to pass and then she rested her arm at his waist.

"G'night, Sasha."

"Good night, Daryl."

$%^&

"One thing's for sure, you're staying with the boys. I'll go with Rick and the rest to scope out Terminus."

Dawn had been admiring the view of the glittering stars and the luminous full moon above while waiting for hers and Nik's bodies to warm inside the sleeping bag. The fall night was cool and pleasant, but soon winter promised to bring obstacles. Before Dawn could process those potential problems, her ire started burning. Nik tugged on her panties and she slapped his hand away.

"Are my hands still cold?" he asked.

"No, I'm not attracted to Captain Caveman and I don't want him pawing on me," she said. "I told you before. That Neanderthal bullshit isn't cute. I don't like it."

"Hmm…"

Now, she glared at the moon. It was pretty enough up there in the sky. Safe from all manner of troubles. As she contemplated celestial beings, she tried to ignore Nik sliding his thigh over hers and moving in to kiss her neck. When his tongue toyed with the sensitive spot behind her ear, she bit her bottom lip, determined not to moan or whimper. 

"Do you like this?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. 

He kissed her. And he took his time, sucking each lip before he drew her tongue inside his mouth. Now, Dawn moaned. He parted her thighs and moved on top of her. One hand supported his weight and the other slipped inside her panties. As was his way when they were in conflict, his rubbing was more tease than satisfaction. Her moans turned to growls despite herself.

"You know what I want," he murmured against her mouth.

"I told you no," she said, squirming against his teasing hand. 

"One lick," he bargained. "I'll stop before you cum. Promise."

"When have you ever?" She grabbed his wrist and placed his hand just so. They both moaned.

"You're so fucking wet," he groaned. "Five licks. I'll stop. Just pull my hair."

"I could…" She adjusted his rhythm as she spoke and the words were spoken with difficulty. "I could snatch you bald and it wouldn't matter. No, Nikky. Dammit. Fuck. Right there. Just… Right there, please."

His caresses were just right and seconds away from taking her over the edge when he pulled his hand from her and licked his fingers. "This could be your pus—"

"Nikky!"

"We're on the roof," he said. "No one can hear us. Hell, that's why we're up here. I wanna hear you scream. Claw my back at least."

"Shut up."

"Eight licks," he murmured against her ear. He slid first one and then another finger inside her. His thumb tapped her clit in an insufferable beat. "And a long, deep kiss."

"Begging isn't…" 

Her refusal was lost as Nik stroked the bundle of nerves deep inside her. His thumb mimicked the movements of his fingers. Her legs trembled. She grabbed his shoulder. Just as her back arched, he removed his fingers and popped them inside his mouth again.

"You're being an ass," she said when her breath returned. 

"Me?" His muffled words were hard to understand so she pulled his fingers from his mouth. "When will we have privacy like this again? At the lake, you were worried about Clay or Nash hanging around and I didn't like it either. We have the whole roof to ourselves and I miss…tasting you."

Dawn hated how persuasive Nik could be when he was determined. Especially when what he wanted was something tempting, but—

"Let's talk first." 

"And then it will be quick because you'll be tired and want to sleep," he said. 

"I just don't want you going down on me." 

"Who turns down a blow job?" he asked, stunned. 

"Not tonight," she said. "Please. Let's do it this way. Put the condom on." 

Dawn kicked her panties to the bottom of the sleeping bag and rolled onto her side. She then reached behind her to grab Nik's hip. He lifted her thigh. His fingers stroked and his hard cock poked her backside.

"You're just using me," he complained. 

She felt for his latex-covered erection. Even reaching behind her, she managed to time her caresses to his strokes. Finally, he removed his fingers to guide his cock inside her. Full and deep, he held himself still and tapped her clit with his finger. Dawn moved her hips, but he told her to stop. 

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I can't think when you do that."

"Nikky…" 

"Will you talk to me if I let you cum first or should I play hard to get?" 

"Don't be an asshole." 

She placed his hand where she wanted it. The rhythm of both his fingers and his hips was hypnotic. He filled her with deep, methodical thrusts. Dawn clutched the edges of the sleeping bag. The fabric scraped against the rooftop floor. Their breathing echoed in the otherwise quiet night. She gnawed her forearm to keep from crying out.

"You're so wet and slick," he whispered in her ear. 

His descriptions made her shudder. Then he slow eddown to suckle the back of her neck. "Fuck me, Nikky," she said in a hoarse whisper. 

"Talk to me." 

"Fuck. Me. Hard." 

Dawn's hips twitched. Moments later, he rolled her onto her stomach. His cock drove into her from behind. Their moans were hard to contain. She clutched the pillow and he burrowed his face into her hair. His hand, still trapped between her thighs, danced to a frenetic rhythm. She tried to muffle her high-pitched squeal in the pillow. His pace quickened. His grunts against her ear vibrated through her. Sweat from his chest skimmed her back. Release hit them almost simultaneously. His seed erupted into the condom. She missed the days when he exploded inside her, but they couldn't do that now. Afterward, they lay side by side with their hands intertwined. 

"Will you talk to me now?" 

"I'm tired—" 

"Dammit, Dawn—" 

"No, Nikky, what I mean is I'm scared." 

"Terminus?" he asked.

"I could've lost you yesterday or any moment," she said. "I'm scared that our lives will change after this."

"Lorenzo thinks we're too jaded." 

"Maybe we are, but I'm still scared." 

He sighed. 

"What?" she asked. 

"I can't believe you denied me a taste of your sweetness because of fear." 

"Don't make fun." 

"I'm not, but it's been on my mind since before dinner…" 

"Shut up. You need help." 

"I'm addicted." He kissed her shoulder. "I crave it. I dream about it." 

She giggled but immediately covered her hand with her mouth. 

"One day this will be a memory," he promised. "We'll all be together again. In a home. And I'll remind you of this. Of you not letting me tongue you." 

"You're nasty." 

"That's not nasty." He kissed her mouth. "It's love."

$%^&

Michonne left the boys as they set up the checkerboard and Lorenzo began his interior perimeter check. In her absence, she discovered that Rick had been a very busy man. The two desks were pushed together. Blankets and pillows disguised the former rigid furnishings and now resembled a queen sized bed. Candlelight flickered along the baseboard. She even recognized the faint scent of vanilla. She smiled to herself. She should have known that underneath it all, Rick Grimes was a romantic.

"You've been busy."

Rick tilted his head as his gaze appraised her. Michonne had never known a man who could say so much with a glance. Finally, he said, "Figured you'd be tired. After everythang."

"Lorenzo's taking first watch. I told him I'd take the next. Daryl is after me."

He nodded. A slight frown wrinkled his brow. "I'll go after Lorenzo."

"I got it." She pushed the door closed as she came fully into the room. After a few minutes, it dawned on her that she was just standing in the doorway. As if she was afraid. "You should rest, Rick. I don't mind."

"I'm fine." He leaned against the wall and tugged off his boots. "How are the boys?"

"Talking about their book run tomorrow?" Michonne said. 

"To a library or book store," he said, "I guess. I told Carl that one of us would join them."

"It should be you."

He looked at her, surprised. During the quiet, she removed the shirt and slipped under the blankets. For a moment, she was still as her body adjusted. Even the couch hadn't felt this good. Maybe the recliner had been this comfortable. She sighed and enjoyed how her body grew warm. Then, Rick unbuckled his belt. The noise pulled her from her sudden cocoon to meet his ever-present steady gaze. She imagined that he had been staring at her the entire time.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Go ahead."

He undressed down to boxer briefs and his t-shirt. He claimed the vacant space beside her and took a moment to adjust. She wondered if this was weird for him. Being in a bed with a woman who wasn't his wife. Being in bed with her. After losing Andre and Mike, she hadn't thought about another man. Maybe she missed her vibrator, but not the connection of a man with her, inside her. Not until she met Rick. 

Moonlight filtered through the boarded windows and the soft candlelight allowed her to stare at the faint shadows on the wall. He surprised her by taking her hand. 

"I guess you want to know why I'm being weird."

"I don't think you're weird," he argued. "It's fine. Everythang is fine." 

"It's been awhile for you, too, right?" she asked. 

He coughed and said, "Yeah." 

"You're horny."

"Michonne, wait. It's not like that," he said. "I don't want just anybody. I want you." 

The grip on her hand relaxed. He rolled onto his elbow and forearm to look down at her. "We should talk about…what happened," he offered. 

"It's not that," she said. "Maybe part of it, but not the main thing." 

Tears began to roll from the corners of her eyes. She told him about Mike and Andre. The refugee camp. She knew that he already knew about the walker pets and how she talked to Mike. 

"You think I'll be like him? Like Mike?" 

She released a short laugh. "You're nothing like him. That's the last thing that scares me." 

"I know I can get intense," he said, quietly, "but I swear I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you." 

"I'm not afraid of that either." 

"Then what are you afraid of," he asked. 

"So many things…" Her voice caught. 

"Then tell me. I don't know if I can help, but I can listen. Maybe listening will help. I'm in no place to judge…" 

It took a moment, but she said, "I'm afraid of babies. I'm afraid of letting you inside more than what you already are. I'm afraid of making babies with you. I'm afraid that a part of me wants to make babies with you." She gave a faint laugh. "But mostly, I'm afraid." 

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I know I was an asshole in the beginning." 

"You had to be. You needed to be." 

"I think about it and regret the way I treated you. When you found us…" He moved onto his back and wrapped his arm around her to draw her close. "I told Carl that you were coming for him, but a part of me was hoping you were there for me, too." 

"I-I was." 

"I know," he said. "I see the way you look at me. It's like you see right through me. Like you already know how I feel about you and that's what's scaring you."

Michonne sighed. Mike had never read her this well. She knew she wasn't transparent. This thing between her and Rick could be their greatest strength or her worst weakness. She didn't know what to do with it. She feared allowing herself to love him, but she was smart enough to know it was already too late.

$%^&

Despite the early start to the day and having his night interrupted by an odd-hour watch, Rick found himself wide-awake and ready to tackle any task. Whether that included hanging freshly washed clothes to dry or sorting their supplies for packing the vehicles, he was energized. Sleeping with Michonne had not been quite what he had imagined, but it was what his mind, body, and soul needed. 

By mid-morning, he realized he didn't care if anyone noticed the occasional glances that he and Michonne shared. The talk with Carl would have to happen soon, though. He considered having her join the discussion, but decided against. Her call that Rick participate in the book run had been a good one. The father-son quality time was hard to come by in times like these. Maybe a quiet moment would occur giving Rick the opportunity to gauge if his son's idea of Michonne being part of the family also included Rick or if it was just a Carl and Michonne thing.

The walk to the first bookstore was just a couple of blocks away. Carl had found a map in the manager's drawer and Dominik carried a page torn from the phone book. The young men walked ahead and spoke in quiet tones but used animated gestures to emphasize their points. If not for the pistol on his son's hip and the tire iron looped through Dom's belt, Rick could almost forget their situation and pretend this was just a relaxing day with his kid and their friends. Almost.

"Might be a good idea to stock up on fuel, too," Nik said. His voice was low as he looked around their surroundings. "Lorenzo spotted a few vehicles when he was helping Sasha with the Harley. He didn't check for gas, but it wouldn't hurt."

Rick nodded. "Good idea. You got containers?"

"Two ten-gallon jugs," Nik said with shrug. "Not enough to keep any of our rides filled up, but I like to keep something on hand."

"Your family's well-stocked. It's like you have a little of everythang."

Nik laughed softly. "It just seems that way. Dawn had been researching this sort of thing for over a year. We didn't realize it'd be blessing in disguise."

The boys reached the end of the block. Rick noticed how Dom waited and Carl instinctively mimicked his friend's actions. They would have moved on, but Rick heard the familiar shuffling feet and grumbling. And he smelled the rotten stink of decaying flesh. 

"At least three," Nik whispered, having removed his knife from its sheath on his belt. 

Rick did the same, not wanting to fire his Colt and alert more walkers to their location. "Formation," he said.

He took point around the corner with everyone else to his back. They moved as one to face the potential threat. Five walkers perked upon their arrival. Rick lunged for the biggest one. 

He told Carl, "Don't shoot!"

The actions of the others were hard to follow because everyone moved quickly. Dominik swung his tire iron with precision. Although still small in frame, he managed to decapitate the ambling walker after a couple of swings. Nik kicked one to the ground and used the height advantage to plunge his knife into the eye socket. 

Rick and Carl worked together to trip the largest walker onto his backside. After the walker was down, Carl kicked its skull in. Nik knifed the final walker in the back of its head. 

Nik hugged his son and the pair continued on. Carl looked at Rick and smiled. Rick returned the gesture. They were alive. They had survived. 

The bookstore had minimal damage. A few ripped books littered the floor. Shelves were turned over in the first section. They waited to hear movement or the telltale sounds. Nothing stirred.

"Stay close and keep aware," Nik told Dominik.

"You do the same," Rick said to Carl.

The boys nodded and moved away from their fathers. Rick watched them until their slight forms became shadows. One day soon, Carl would no longer resemble his little boy. Not too long ago, Rick told Carl that he was man and he meant those words. He knew that Carl needed to feel empowered and needed to believe in himself in case something happened to Rick. But the truth was, Rick hadn't lied. Carl had grown so much since Lori died. Maybe even because of her death. Rick knew if she were alive, she would long to see the little boy who'd run to her with tears in his eyes and she'd be disappointed that he no longer existed. She wouldn't have understood how to let go. 

"You get any special requests?" Nik asked.

"For books?" 

"Anything," the other man said. "I'm looking for different colored thermoses. Enough for all of us."

Rick laughed. "That's a good idea."

Nik nodded. "I'm looking for more coffee, too."

"I suppose I could get a book." Rick scratched his beard. "I hadn't thought about it."

A stack of graphic tees lay discarded on the floor. Rick squatted to look through the sizes. Most were too small for anyone in his group, but the last three would fit the women. Perfect. He stuffed them inside his bag. 

He noticed a palm-sized picture book of the works of Vincent van Gogh. As he thumbed through the pages, he got the strongest urge that leaving the booklet behind would be a bad idea. It was added to his stash. 

Behind the counter were old magazines and dusty cash register tape. He pushed it aside. So far, Nik was three short on his thermos run so Rick was trying to help. His hand swiped a box in the far corner of the counter's shelf. He shined his flashlight and was pleased to see that the box had the Big Cat logo on the side. Talk about a find! The sealed package contained about fifteen candy bars. That too went into his bag. 

A few minutes later, they decided to head to the library conveniently located across the street. As a testament to the former small town, the library was single-story and resembled an English cottage. No walkers loitered the space on the outside. Rick was relieved to find that none waited inside either.

Dominik removed books from his bag and set them on the counter. His father gave him a list and said, "Look for the three at the top first."

"Yes, sir."

"Think any comics are left?" Carl asked. 

"Yeah," Dom said. "Help me find these and then we'll look for some."

Nik headed to the geography section and Rick followed. Nik rifled through stacks of maps until he found what he wanted.

"What're you looking for?"

"The Terminus area and places beyond." Nik gave him extra copies. "We'll need a firm plan."

"We'll have one."

The men returned to their original positions near the front entrance. They could hear the boys and reach them quickly if necessary. The library hadn't been too picked over, but it didn't have anything that Rick wanted to grab that would tie him down. He liked what his bag held. Besides, the bank and the other stores had provided sufficient provisions that would last for several weeks. They were better off than they had been in awhile.

"What's the plan after Terminus?" Nik asked.

Rick hesitated before answering. He wasn't sure where this question was headed, and he didn't like to plan too far ahead as life had become painfully unpredictable. He shrugged as an answer.

"So you think it's legit."

"I don't know," Rick said. 

Nik's mouth tightened, but his agitation seemed to come from the unknown. "That's what I hate about all this. The wandering and the not knowing."

"Everybody does."

"I know," Nik said. 

"You don't have to come if you don't feel right about it," Rick said. "It's not your people—"

"I don't have a problem with that. I didn't realize you still had a problem with us."

"I don't," Rick said. 

Nik sighed and shook his head.

"What?" Rick asked. "You got something to say, say it."

"Nothing. Just want a place where our women and our boys can feel safe," Nik said.

"I want the same. There's no difference in what we want. If Terminus is that place, we can do that there. We can have that there. If not, we'll move on. Find a better place." Rick looked at Nik. "Or build our own."

$%^&

Daryl sat shotgun in Lorenzo's truck. They were headed toward a cul-de-sac not too far from the main strip in town. The fall breeze that blew into the windows was balmy. More rain could be in the forecast. Daryl wasn't sure. If so, the weather could delay their movement. He was sure that he didn't like the idea of that. Staying in this spot too long felt wrong. He wanted to find a place to settle before fall turned into winter.

"I thought about it all night, and I almost decided against it," Lorenzo said.

"A camper's a good idea," he told Lorenzo. "It'll keep shit dry and protect it from the elements and walkers. Did you have one before?"

"Nah." Lorenzo chuckled. "Didn’t want it fucking up my paint job."

Daryl laughed. 

"We found your bike over here. I saw the camper when we headed out."

Daryl assessed the area and calculated the miles from the bank. "Y'all come all this way for that Harley?"

"Sasha kept saying one more street." Lorenzo wore a faint smile. "Just one more. Don't take this wrong, but being the odd man out got me feeling a little envious at times. You, Rick, and Nik got me thinking that the bachelor's life ain't shit."

Daryl stared at the passing scenery. If being in a relationship was foreign to him, having a serious talk about them wasn't any easier. He didn't want his words to make him look like a fool. The little he knew about this stuff could fit on the tip of his fingernail, if that. But every moment with Sasha was teaching him a little more. Being with her wasn't nearly as bad as what his parents had or the women Merle brought around. Still, the newness with Sasha felt special. He feared talking too much would taint it somehow.

"Sometimes I wonder if having someone could be like a Catch-22," Lorenzo continued. 

"How you mean?" Daryl asked.

"On the one hand, I have a good woman that I'm free to love and have that love returned, but on the other hand, there's always the potential for loss."

Daryl noticed how flushed Lorenzo's face became when he spoke of being free to love someone. He didn't have to wonder about the other man's word choice, and he chose not to dwell on it. "You know, you got somethin' that many already lost—your family. Your brother."

"Yeah," Lorenzo said, "and I'm grateful. The close calls have been too many. Don't mind me. I'm just grumbling aloud."

"It ain't my place to judge," Daryl said. "This life ain't easy."

"No, it ain't."

Lorenzo pulled into the cul-de-sac and parked at the intersection, facing out. The camper was dusty, but the parts hadn't rusted. Together, they managed to remove it from the original truck and attach it to Lorenzo's pickup. The work could not be rushed, but they remained focused so that they were not away from the bank too long. Near the end of their task, Daryl noticed a flicker of light in a cluster of bushes behind the house across the street.. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He stiffened, but other than that, he kept working.

"See that?" Lorenzo asked, barely moving his mouth.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Been feeling like we weren't alone for the last half hour or so."

"Me too." Lorenzo tossed him a screwdriver. "We better get back."

Daryl finished up and minutes later, they were back on the road. Lorenzo took a few detours to return to the bank. 

"Looks like we had our last night in town," Daryl said. "Time to blow this joint."

"Yep." Lorenzo radioed Nik to warn them that others were in the area and to start loading supplies. The time had come for them to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for your inspiring response! ☺ Every reader, follow, favorite, review, and kudo is appreciated and provides mega amounts of motivation! I wanted to try something a little different with this chapter, but Rick wouldn't let me. Oh well. The next chapter will explore how well they can move together as one group now that their temporary home has become a thing of the past. Terminus is maybe a chapter away. Your thoughts have been so helpful, and you know this Terminus thing can use some serious inspiration! Gareth and Mary…BLECH! lol


	11. Irreplaceable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group relocates before they split with half going to Terminus and the other half staying behind. However, a bit of disconnect causes complications for couples.

The one good thing about family road trips now, Rick reasoned, was that the open road really was open. No lousy asshole hogged the passing lane for miles without speeding up or getting over. No crazy erratic driver wove in and out in the right lane either. On this afternoon, just the flat road lay before them and a small caravan followed behind.

 

He glanced at Michonne. A tiny smile hinted at her mouth. She had been quiet since they climbed into the Tahoe and left the brief reprieve at the bank. Carl sat in the backseat. The sound of paper flapping as he adjusted the map was loud, but the noise wasn't unpleasant. Their gazes met in the rearview mirror. His son grimaced.

 

"It won't stay flat," Carl complained.

 

"Do the best you can," Rick advised.

 

Michonne shifted in the passenger seat to look at Carl. "Want me to navigate?"

 

"I got it," Carl said. "Gimme a sec."

 

"Okay." She looked at Rick and they shared a smile.

 

The Harley's engine purred from the passing lane. Rick slowed for Daryl and Sasha to pass, but Daryl kept the motorcycle steady with the Tahoe. The couple wore peaceful expressions and Rick wondered if they knew how well they fit together. He liked that his brother was letting his guard down and letting someone in.

 

"Anything good in the glove compartment?" Rick asked.

 

Michonne shook her head. "Nothing. Where did you get the air fresheners? They smell…fresh."

 

He laughed. "Guess."

 

Michonne flicked the little cardboard tree that dangled from the rearview mirror. "The back of their Explorer must look like a mini-Costco."

 

They both chuckled.

 

"Nik says they did research on this kind of thing," he said. "At least Dawn did, and he and Dominik tagged along."

 

"Research on walkers?" she asked.

 

"No, living in a world like this," Rick explained. "After everything we're used to is gone."

 

"I can't imagine preparing for this beforehand. You always think you're prepared for anything, but you're not ever really prepared, you know?"

 

He nodded. "I know exactly what you mean."

 

The need for more words was unnecessary. They had a way of understanding each other that made speaking just an added bonus. He loved the melodic tones of her voice. The softness gave him a sense of peace. Sometimes, he instigated conversation just to hear her speak but in many instances, he didn't need to hear the words to know her thoughts. However, there were those rare occasions where clarification was necessary. He thought back to the night before and how the conversation about her past revealed so much about the woman he cared about. It took him back to the first time he saw her and the way she clutched the fence and the haunting look in her dark eyes. He recognized her pain instantly and it was that something else that drew him in instantly.

 

They rode at least another thirty miles before Carl requested a rest stop. At a former food stand, Rick pulled over. The others followed. Carl ran for the bushes and Dominik did, too.

 

"I'll stand watch," Lorenzo offered, going after them.

 

Soon, everyone took a minute to duck into the bushes with a roll of toilet paper. Once they were done, they crowded at the hood of the Tahoe where Carl had the map spread.

 

"We're 18 miles from Terminus," Carl said. "Looks like the wildlife preserve office is only 2 or 3 miles from there."

 

"Could be a good place to set up camp," Daryl said.

 

Rick peered over Carl's shoulder to see where his son had circled a capital "T." The trek from the preserve to Terminus could be tricky, but they had survived worse. He hoped the preserve was in good shape.

 

"Doesn't look that bad. Could be a incline here," Rick said, pointing with his finger. "That's a slight vantage point, visual wise."

 

"Let's check it out," Nik said. "The light's still good. If there's an office building, we can set up there. Maybe even leave for Terminus before nightfall."

 

"Maybe," Rick agreed.

 

"No sign of stragglers so far," Daryl said. "You seen any?"

 

Lorenzo, who had the rear, shook his head. "Nothing, but it doesn't mean we're alone."

 

"Gee, thanks," Dawn said.

 

Nik squeezed her shoulder. "None of us have seen anything."

 

"Can we get off the main road?" Sasha asked.

 

Dominik and Carl hunched over the map again. In unison, they said, "Look!"

 

Rick nudged his son to move over and Nik did the same. The two fathers nodded as they viewed the map.

 

"Yeah, there's a detour about two miles from here," Rick said. "After a few curves, it should take us right to the preserve admin office."

 

"Me and Sasha'll take point." Daryl straddled the Harley and Sasha joined him. 

 

The rest returned to their vehicles. Michonne offered to drive, but Rick enjoyed being behind the wheel. Besides, he needed something to occupy his mind. If he was in the passenger seat, his thoughts would scatter to Terminus and he wasn't ready for that. He wanted to enjoy the moment of having the people he cared about the most under his protection in the most basic way. In a short while, he would venture out in hopes of finding a safe space for them and maybe reconnecting with the rest of their family, but for now, he needed to appreciate the car ride.

 

Far too quickly, Rick found himself parking beside Daryl's bike near the entrance to the former wildlife preserve. The three of them exited the Tahoe and joined Daryl and Sasha at the chained gate.

 

"Need some bolt cutters," Daryl said, tugging on the chains.

 

"I'll see if Nik has some," Carl volunteered.

 

"Probably," Sasha said with a faint smile.

 

"We could climb over," Daryl said.

 

Rick nodded.

 

"Or we could wait," Michonne said.

 

Rick tilted his head toward her. "We'll wait."

 

He used the time to assess the space. A small parking lot rested on the other side of the chain-linked fence. Weeds sprouted from the broken asphalt. A couple of dusty trucks sat in the otherwise vacant lot. The lonesome vehicles suggested that either walkers or bodies could be close by. The preserve administrative office building didn't appear worse for wear. At least not from the outside. They had passed a larger parking lot with signs toward the pavilion and zoo before they reached the admin area.

 

"At least the lot isn't full," Sasha commented. "They must have shut down early."

 

Carl and Dominik returned with the bolt cutters with the rest of the Cassidys on their trail. Daryl snapped the chain with a little effort before handing the cutters back to Nik. The group readied their weapons and stepped inside.

 

As the vehicles suggested, only a few people remained inside. Two had opted out and the final one roamed the halls as a walker. Daryl's arrow ended that misery. He and Lorenzo removed the bodies and took them off to burn them. Meanwhile, the others began fortifying the office building. After the bank, they knew how to work together.

 

Rick engaged his son's assistance to set a few traps and gather wood. Without any distractions clouding their conversation, Rick decided this would be the best time for them to talk.

 

"I should be going with you," Carl said. "I can handle it."

 

"I know you can—"

 

"You think Michonne needs to babysit me," Carl said, arms crossed and scowl set on his young face. "She doesn't."

 

"That's not why she's staying."

 

"I know she's staying because you asked her to," his son accused.

 

"That part's right," Rick said, "but part of your reasoning is off. I want both of you safe. Out of harm's way if I can help it. We don't know anything about this place or those people. I need you and Michonne away from that until I know for sure."

 

"It's because of what happened," Carl said quietly. "What happened with those men."

 

"No, not exactly." Rick placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "I know you can handle yourself. I wouldn't leave you if I didn't know that. I know that Michonne can, too."

 

"We're good back up."

 

"You are." Rick squeezed gently until Carl looked at him. "The thing is… I care about Michonne. I want her to be safe just like I want you to be safe, too. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

 

The boy glanced away, his expression unreadable.

 

"Carl?" Rick sighed.

 

Carl moved and kept his back to his father. Rick followed.

 

"Say something," Rick said.

 

"Of course, you want her safe," Carl said slowly.

 

Rick ran a hand over his beard. He thought the changes had been clear and his son had picked up the subtle differences. After everything they'd gone through, it was easy to forget how young Carl was and how limited his experiences were. Romantic relationships were complicated prior to the turn. Living in this changing world had not made things easier.

 

"It's more than that," Rick said. He touched his son's shoulder until the boy turned around. "I care about her. I like her."

 

Carl stared. "You like _like_ her?"

 

"Yeah," Rick nodded, "I do."

 

"She likes you back?" the boy asked. "Like with Maggie and Glenn? Is it like that?"

 

Rick frowned as he thought about it. Then, he smiled faintly at the comparison. "It's not quite what they have, but yeah, she likes me back."

 

"For how long?" Carl asked. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Michonne tell me? Is that why you stayed in the room together? You should have told me."

 

"I'm telling you now."

 

Carl continued to stare at his father. "Did it just happen?" The boy shook his head. "No, it didn't just happen."

 

Rick nodded. "No."

 

"You didn't tell me 'cause you thought I'd be mad…because of Mom."

 

"I don't know," Rick said. "Maybe. Things weren't good in the end between us and that wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry, but we don't get do-overs. And I can't change the way I feel about Michonne. I wouldn't if I could."

 

"Things weren't good with me and Mom either."

 

"Your mom loved you," Rick said. "No matter what, she always loved you. What's happening with me and Michonne is not about trying to replace your mom…"

 

"I know. Michonne isn't like Mom. They're different." Carl met his father's stare. "I'm not mad about Michonne. She's family. _We're_ family. I'll keep her safe."

 

$%^&

 

"You have to relax a bit," Daryl said. "Your shoulders are too tight."

 

Dominik drew in a deep breath and exhaled. His shoulders lost some of the tension and his hold on the crossbow became less rigid. Daryl nodded at him.

 

"That's better. Set your sights and release."

 

The bolt hit the tree unlike three out of the five previous attempts. Considering this was the first lesson, Daryl wasn't displeased with the boy's progress. The crossbow the kid had found wasn't in the best shape, but it worked. Daryl figured that Dominik should get the hang of that one first and then Daryl would let the boy practice on the larger one that Daryl used.

 

"Hit the tree a few more times and we'll see about huntin' a real target," Daryl said.

 

"Walkers?" Dominik asked.

 

"Squirrels," Daryl replied. "I don't want yo' mama mad at me. Besides, knowing how to hunt for your next meal is a good skill. I know ya can handle walkers."

 

"Who told you?"

 

"Carl and Rick."

 

"Uncle and me use tire irons because they're quiet," Dominik confided, "but I know how to shoot, too."

 

Daryl nodded. "Hit the tree."

 

As it had become their way lately, Daryl sensed Sasha before he saw her. Hands on her hip, she stepped into his line of vision. "Hey," she said.

 

"It ain't like that's necessary," he said, teasing.

 

"How's he doing?"

 

"He's a natural," Daryl said. "More practice and a better crossbow, he'll get the hang of it. Ya finished with that ammo?"

 

"Just about," she said. "I needed a break."

 

"So ya came over to be nosy."

 

"No," she said slowly.

 

"Right," Daryl said with a faint chuckle.

 

She stepped closer to him. He felt her heat although her body was an inch or two from his. The urge to move back was strong, but he fought against it. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and darted his gaze between her and the boy.

 

"What do I have to do to get a lesson?" she asked.

 

He frowned and shook his head. "Sasha…"

 

Her suggestive tone unnerved him. After riding with her all day, he was keyed up. His body wanted things that the rest of him wasn't ready to handle. He knew that. But the knowing and the expressing that knowledge were two different things.

 

He mumbled, "Nothin'."

 

Then he sidestepped and went to Dominik. "Let's get those squirrels. "

 

"I gotta tell my dad," Dominik said. "I'll be right back."

 

Daryl nodded. In the boy's absence, Daryl picked up the discarded bolts. Dominik's crossbow had a small bag, but the few arrows fit inside. Daryl shouldered his crossbow, careful not to look in Sasha's direction. A few more minutes passed while he waited for Dom. When Daryl finally summoned the courage to look, Sasha was gone. Then Dominik reappeared, eager for their hunt. Daryl knew he would have to make that moment up to her, but he decided that he would rather deal with that later. Hunting squirrel was something he knew and understood. He could handle that.

 

$%^&

 

After clearing and fortifying the building, they parked the vehicles inside the fence. Lorenzo found more chains and a set of padlocks. When Michonne stepped outside for air, she saw him, working methodically and alone at the entrance. To her surprise, Carl joined him and the two went through the task together. She couldn't hear their conversation, but she noted from their body language and Carl's easy manner that the two were getting along.

 

"Did you ask him to do that?" Rick asked. His appearance was expected as he had been watching when she grabbed the keys to the Tahoe and came outside. 

 

She shook her head.

 

"Hmm…"

 

"It's not as spacious as the bank," she said, "but it will do."

 

"At least the water's working and there were a good number of tranquilizer guns left," he said. He nodded toward the keys in her hands. "Going somewhere?"

 

She smiled. "Nope." She unlocked the rear and lifted the hatch. After she sat, she indicated for him to do the same.

 

"This is nice." He glanced around. "So far, it's quiet. Out of the way."

 

"Still no sign of anyone tailing us?"

 

He shook his head. "Not that I've seen. Are you tired?"

 

"Not really. Not any more than usual. Not that I can feel it."

 

He smiled, nodding. "Same here."

 

"I have something for you."

 

"Yeah?" A slight frown wrinkled his forehead as he tilted his head. "Me too. I have something for you, too."

 

"Really?" She had moved to retrieve his gift from under the sleeping bag where she had hidden it. At the mention of her gift, she paused. "What is it?"

 

Rick grinned. "No, ladies first."

 

The light in his blue eyes was rare as was the easiness of his disposition. She rarely tried to imagine the man he had been before. In the end, his past didn't matter. All they had was today, that moment. It was the present that made them who they were and what they were willing to do for each other. But sometimes, when he let his guard down and he truly relaxed, she felt she caught a glimpse of the old Rick and she had a strong feeling that she would have liked him, too.

 

"Okay," she said, "because you insist."

 

She had wrapped her surprise in some tarp that Nik loaned her. She handed everything to him and waited. For a moment, she wondered if the gift was too little or too much, but then she brushed her misgivings aside. She knew Rick and she knew that he would understand.

 

He tested the weight with his hands and his gaze held hers. A faint smile hid behind the thickness of his beard. "Feels promising," he murmured in his lazy Southern drawl.

 

"Wait till you open it."

 

"Was that a hint?" he asked.

 

She shrugged.

 

"Are you one of those people who gets antsy when the gift isn't opened immediately?" he teased.

 

Michonne folded her arms across her chest and waited.

 

He laughed. "Yeah, I think you are."

 

"Rick."

 

"Okay, okay." He carefully and too slowly for her patience unfolded the tarp. The soft gasp was barely audible, but the approval in his eyes was everything she needed. "Where did you find it?"

 

"The hardware store," she said. "Across from the bank."

 

Rick lifted the red-handled machete from the tarp and angled it so that the blade gleamed in the sunlight. He squeezed the handle several times, getting a feel for it. "It has a good weight. Looks sharp."

 

"It is."

 

He rose from the Tahoe and issued a few practice swings. "Yeah, the weight is good, Michonne. Real good." His eyes danced with renewed admiration as he looked at her. "I don't know what to say. This is perfect."

 

"Most people say thanks," she said, softly. 

 

"Thanks." He placed the machete on the ground and bent forward to kiss her. "I'm not sure how my gift compares."

 

"Let me see." She extended her hand, palm up.

 

"It's not wrapped." He frowned. "If you give me a minute…"

 

"I don't care about that."

 

"Hold on." He headed to the back seat where he opened the door. Upon his return, he had his bag. His expression was serious and worried. In that moment, as he fumbled with the flaps of the opening, he reminded her of Carl and she had to bite back a smile.

 

"Will you hand it over today, or…?"

 

He laughed softly. "I just saw it and thought of you. I don't know why…" He coughed once. "Sounds like I'm twelve. Here. You'll see."

 

She accepted the bag and tried to contain her curiosity, but her hands didn't get the memo. Within seconds, she jerked the flaps loose and was investigating the treasures inside.

 

First, she pulled out three medium-sized gray t-shirts with a stick figure cat face drawn in the center.

 

"One's for you," he murmured. "The other two are for Sasha and Dawn."

 

"Okay." She pulled out one and set it aside. The others she left inside.

 

"There's more," he said, sliding toward her. "Keep goin'."

 

She handed him the other shirts and was stunned to see a full package of Big Cat candy bars waiting for her. "Chocolate!"

 

"Yeah." He smiled. A faint blush colored his ruddy cheeks. "The plastic's intact so maybe it's still fresh."

 

"Carl will like this, too."

 

Rick nodded, still smiling. "There's one more thing."

 

She removed the candy and the tiny booklet fell over. "A book?" she murmured. As he nodded, she took the book from the bag. The image of Vincent van Gogh's "Starry Night" graced the cover. No matter how commercialized the famed artist's work was, this piece never ceased to amaze her. Her fingers traced the blaze of stars and she sighed.

 

"Okay?"

 

"Yeah," she said quietly. The title promised that more images of his work were in the pages of the tiny tome. She hugged the book to her chest. "Thanks, Rick."

 

"You sure?"

 

She nodded. "Did Carl tell you?"

 

"Of course I know you love chocolate," he said with a faint grin. "The shirt looked like it would fit. The book was a whim. I just saw it… I wasn't sure, but it felt right."

 

"Good call. I like van Gogh." She took Rick's hand and squeezed.

 

"I've been thinking," Rick said, looking down at their joined hands. "Going to Terminus. Do you want to go?"

 

"I know I said I'd stay," she answered, "but I'd go only to watch your back. Splitting the group to check out Terminus feels like the best plan, and someone should stay with Carl."

 

"I talked to him about us," he said. "He didn't know. In some ways, he's more mature than I'd ever want him to have to be at this age, but when I explained _us_ , I realized he's still a boy. He hadn't seen what we thought he had, or if he did see it, he didn't understand, the way we thought he had."

 

Michonne rose from the Tahoe so that she could see Carl. He was still hard at work with Lorenzo. From this distance, he appeared so young, but also so eager to help and to please. She would never forgive herself if she caused him pain.

 

"He's okay about it," Rick said, as if he read her thoughts. "His feelings for you haven't changed. Truth is, I think he's still processing it. He wondered if we were like Glenn and Maggie."

 

Michonne released a faint laugh. "Not exactly."

 

"I told him that." He placed his hand on her waist but he made no other move to hold her. "He cares about you. A lot. I do, too. It's okay, Michonne. We're okay."

 

She nodded, her hand resting on his forearm. "I'm staying here with Carl. You'll come back and get us if it's legit."

 

"And you'll come and get me if it's not."

 

$%^&

 

Nik liked the cement block structure of the building. Aesthetically, the architecture had little appeal, but for security purposes against the living and the dead, the concrete was good enough to keep his family safe in his absence. The space was smaller than the bank. There were restrooms for both sexes, a small kitchenette, a storage/locker room, several small offices, and the main office/lobby. Nine of them wouldn't last more than a couple of days, but an overnight stay before they headed to Terminus wouldn't kill them.

 

He heard Dawn checking the kitchen cabinets, so he went outside to get their ready bag from the Explorer. In case of a quick exit, they kept their essentials in one backpack. So far, they hadn't needed it, but if they ever had to run, it was Dominik's job to grab the bag so that they wouldn't have to start over completely empty-handed.

 

When he returned, he dropped the backpack near their stuff and headed to the kitchen. "Anything?"

 

"Granola bars mostly." She pointed to shriveled balls. "Dried fruit?"

 

"No thanks. I'll toss it."

 

She shook her head. "It doesn't smell. We can use it for fuel maybe. Help with the fire. Think it will stink then?"

 

"I don't want to chance it," he said. "I talked to Lorenzo. He's staying with you and the boys. I think Michonne is, too."

 

"We can handle it." She stacked the granola bars on the counter. "Stop worrying."

 

"I'm not. I just want you to know what's going on."

 

"Lorenzo doesn't have to stay," Dawn said.

 

"Yes, he does," Nik muttered. "He's staying. Anyway, Sasha separated the ammo. We're not taking everything. We're leaving about half here."

 

"Good." She pointed to the bottom cabinet. "There's apple juice, but I'm not sure about it."

 

"I'll check it out."

 

She grabbed the bars and returned to the main room. They had pushed the larger desk against the wall. A small set up of water and food was available. Dawn added the granola bars to the offering.

 

Nik sat on the floor and opened the ready bag. Whenever he left for scavenger runs, he checked it. He needed to know that his family would be okay in his absence. If he did not return, he had to know that they would survive without him.

 

The nylon backpack contained two back-up automatic pistols and three bowie knives. Several rounds of ammo. Packages of jerky. A box of tampons and a box of condoms. Clothing and blankets. Two small notebooks and pens. A bottle of water. Aspirin. Nuts. Toothpaste. A First-Aid ki—

 

"I can't find it," Dawn said, agitated. "Nikky, I don't…I don't have it. Do you have the phone?"

 

They never kept the smartphone in the ready bag. He set backpack aside and stood. "No," he said, patting his jeans pocket. "I don't."

 

"We have to find it!" She reached for their sleeping bag and started shaking it. Her movements bordered on frantic.

 

"Dawn, wait!" He grabbed her shoulders. "Hold on!"

 

"No! What if we left it at the bank?" She rubbed her forehead. "I don't think so, but if I leave now—"

 

"Stop!" He cupped her face. "It's probably in the car."

 

Tears made her eyes brown eyes glisten. "What if it's not?"

 

"I'll look." He caressed the soft swell of her cheek. "Just calm down. Okay. I'll find it."

 

"I'll help—"

 

"No," he said, leading her to a chair. "Sit for a minute. Breathe. I'll be right back. I'll find it."

 

Rick and Michonne lingered near the Tahoe. From their faces, Nik knew they had overheard. He decided to ignore them and search the SUV. Before he unlocked the door, he saw the charger cord and the phone attached at the other end. He detached the charger from the vehicle and clutched it and the iPhone in his hand.

 

"She okay?" Rick asked. "We weren't trying, but we overheard..."

 

"It'd be hard not to." Nik looked past the parked vehicles. He saw his brother chatting with Carl, and Sasha sitting alone. "Dominik and Daryl not back yet?"

 

"No," Michonne said. "Daryl's a good hunter. He'll bring your boy back."

 

"I know. Dominik is a good listener," Nik said. "We wouldn't let him go otherwise."

 

"Are you sure she's okay?" Rick asked again. "If you need to stay… We got this."

 

"That wasn't about…" Nik rubbed a hand over his face. "It's hard to believe a couple would get upset about a phone now. But it is the phone." He glanced down at the palm-sized rectangular object. "It's not just a phone, though. It has pictures. Videos. Irreplaceable stuff. She's okay." He met the worried stares of Rick and Michonne and didn't look away. "Believe me, my wife is strong. If she wants to have a moment because we forgot the phone in the car, she can. She's fine."

 

He didn't wait for a response, but strode back into the office building. Dawn had left the chair and was kneeling beside the ready bag. She was putting everything back inside. Her face was tight, but he could tell that she had made her peace with whether or not he returned with the missing object.

 

He sat on the floor facing her and offered her the phone and charger. "Told ya I'd find it."

 

"My hero," she said with a faint smile. "I'm sorry."

 

"Why?"

 

She took the phone and charger and slid everything into her jeans pocket. "Did they hear?"

 

"Yeah." He patted his lap. "C'mere."

 

She sat and rested her head on his shoulder. "One day, we're gonna lose the phone. I have to prepare myself for that."

 

Nik hugged her to him. "I think you already have. That's what you're afraid of. I know you don't want to hear this, but I promise we'll find her." He kissed Dawn's forehead. "I know our daughter's alive and I know we'll find her."

 

"Noelle was always a daddy's girl," she said, a smile in her voice.

 

"No, she's both of ours."

 

$%^&

 

No matter how far away Sasha sat, the smell of roasting squirrel reached her. The sad attempt at flirting with Daryl had left her raw and reminded her of things she wanted to forget. She used the familiarity of physical activity to divert her mind. Sharpen the knife and clean the rifle. Keep her hands occupied and focus on the task at hand. Don't let anything else in. Don't falter.

 

Footsteps caused her to tense. But just as quickly, she recognized that they weren't his. This gait was softer, cautious.

 

"Mind if I use your sharpener?" Michonne asked.

 

Sasha handed it to her. "No."

 

There was plenty of room on the fallen log so Michonne just sat beside her. The companionable silence was pleasant. The preserve was mostly quiet except for the occasional hammering or the boys chattering in low tones. Lorenzo had finished with the fence. He, Rick, and Dawn were walking the perimeter. Sasha couldn't see Nik, so he was either inside the building or helping with the squirrel roast. She wasn't of a mind to ask.

 

"I'm staying behind," Michonne said. "Lorenzo is, too."

 

Sasha nodded. She had heard bits and pieces of conversation throughout the afternoon. Four were headed to Terminus and five left behind. The odds would be in their favor if shit hit the fan. Not that she was a gambling woman. She liked that they had a backup plan in place, though. It made her feel somewhat better about the excursion.

 

"I hope Terminus is legit," Michonne said, "but my gut isn't sure. It would be nice to stop. To have a place, you know."

 

"I'm not sure what to think about Terminus anymore," Sasha confided. "Maggie and Bob were headed that way because Maggie was sure that's where Glenn would be."

 

Michonne set down the sharpener and her katana and asked, "Did you leave the prison with them?"

 

Sasha nodded.

 

"Maggie's a good fighter," Michonne said. "Bob's not so bad. I guess…"

 

"They're not dead," Sasha said. "At least, they weren't the last time I saw them."

 

 "I got out alone," Michonne confided, "but tracks led me to Rick and Carl."

 

Still smarting from his rebuff, Sasha could only mumble that she found Daryl on train tracks. He had lost Beth. She doubted if Bob and Maggie were as sad about losing her as he was about being separated from Beth.

 

"I wouldn't say that," Michonne offered in form of consolation.

 

Tight-lipped, Sasha said, "I didn't mean it. Forget I said anything. Um, put the sharpener in my bag when you're done. It's inside the building by the door."

 

"I know where it is," Michonne said.

 

Sasha slipped her knife into its sheath on her belt and slipped her rifle over her shoulder. She put the rest of her cleaning supplies in her bag and walked away. Her legs tingled from being in the one position for too long. The movement felt good. It was something else to get her mind off things. A small bird's nest caught her attention and she paused. Thank goodness the nest was too high for walkers to touch was her first thought and her second was what if walkers had already killed the inhabitants. The thought crushed her and she leaned against a tree and stared.

 

Twigs crunched, the familiar scent drifted in the breeze, and she knew a couple of seconds before he spoke that he had joined her.

 

"You were wrong about Bob and Maggie," Daryl said.

 

"I want to be alone."

 

"I don't care," he said. He reached for her hand. When she tried to pull free, he wouldn't let go. "I know I messed up. I didn't mean to."

 

Sasha stared straight ahead. "Whatever, Daryl. Just let me be."

 

"No," he said. "You can't get rid of me that easy. I got ya a knife."

 

She gave a half smile in spite of herself. "What do you want?" she asked.

 

"I can't take it back," he said. "I told ya I'm not good at this."

 

"It doesn't matter."

 

"Liar," he said.

 

She shook her head.

 

"I'm gonna tell ya somethin'."

 

"Fine. What?" she asked.

 

"Maggie and Bob wouldn't just leave ya. They looked for ya. I know they did. When we find them, they'll be glad to see ya again."

 

She shook her head.

 

"You think I'm lyin'?" he asked.

 

"You're just saying that," she murmured.

 

"Why would I?" he asked, insistent. His fingers squeezed hers. "Tell me."

 

"I don't know." She remembered what he said to her the night before. The words threatened to lodge in her chest, but she pushed them out anyway. If she said them aloud, maybe the hurt would lessen. Neither of them was good at relationships, but he was trying. So could she. "Maybe you'd say it 'cause I'm your girlfriend."

 

He kissed her hand. His facial hairs pricked her flesh, but the sensation was nice. "Yeah, but I wouldn't lie to ya," he said. "I'm tellin' the truth."

 

Sasha pushed from the tree and turned to face him. His expression mirrored the similar hurt of the past couple of hours that had plagued her. Nothing had ever been easy for her. Not before the turn and definitely not since. But Daryl had come to her to try and that was something.

 

She kicked at his feet until he parted his legs. He smirked as he shuffled to accommodate her. Then she moved to stand close to him. His hesitation was barely noticeable. She held her breath in anticipation. He nodded his head once and stepped forward with opened arms. Before she knew how it happened, she was flush against him and he continued to hold her close. It was the best feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Thank you again so much for your response to this story! You all rock! As always, thanks for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, and kudoing. Yay, you're so inspiring!!! Also, I'm psyched that you're digging the OCs. Introducing OCs to an established fandom can be a challenge, so I'm glad they're working in this universe. The next stop will be Terminus for half the clan with the other half dealing with whatever finds them at the wildlife preserve. Fun times ahead. Lol 
> 
> The semester has begun so I'm not sure how frequent future updates will be so maybe you can help me out. I may be able to continue weekly updates but with shorter chapters (perhaps half the length of the current long a$$ ones that are posted). Or I may post bi-weekly or less with the usual long @ss chapters such as this one and the usual. So help me decide: weekly posting with shorter chapters, or if you prefer the longer chapters, less frequent posting. Two weeks until TWD returns with 5b. The Richonne in the most recent promo is fantastic!
> 
> One more thing! ☺ If you have time, check out my new fic, ASZ: Chronicles. It's another Richonne/Dasha tale but set after they reach the Alexandria Safe Zone. No worries, the chapters are way shorter than this and the posting schedule is definitely bi-weekly for that one.]


	12. Terminus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick, Daryl, Sasha, and Nik head to Terminus.

Part 12: Terminus

 

Daybreak arrived and Daryl wondered if it came faster than usual. Time passed as if it was on speed, interrupting his sleep and the comfort of Sasha's warm body so close to his. He awakened several times in the night just to watch her sleep. Her rest was far better than he could remember it being even when they slept on the conference table. Despite the uncertainty, she thrived on the potential outcome of this trip. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

 

As Rick and Nik parted from their families, he and Sasha waited at the door. No one said "goodbye," but the intensity behind the partings made Daryl look away. Sasha beckoned for him to follow her outside, and he did.

 

"Dawn loaded us with food and water. I have it in my bag," she said.

 

"Want me to carry it?" he offered, reaching for the backpack.

 

"I can do it—"

 

"It's heavy," he cut in, as he took it. "I got it."

 

"Is this how it's gonna be?" She held his crossbow while he settled the pack onto his back. When he was done, he adjusted the bow over his shoulder.

 

Daryl frowned. "What?"

 

"Are you gonna carry my rifle, too?"

 

His argument was halted by the glint in her brown eyes and the hint of a smirk on her pretty full lips.

 

"You're a big girl. Carry it yourself." He chuckled as she tried to give him a stern face but failed as a soft giggle escaped.

 

The others soon joined them. Rick carried a duffel bag loaded with weapons and ammo. Nik also carried a handgun and his knife in a sheath on his belt. The map was folded in his hand. The other map was left with their group at the preserve. In the early hours, dew still clung to the red and brown leaves that scattered across their path. Squirrels scurried up trees. Any other time, Daryl would have set his sights on them, but the day's mission warranted a different focus.

 

The night before, their dinner had been consumed by plans. Nik read the map and calculated how long it should take them on foot if they were met with little distractions. Leaving at sunrise should put them at Terminus way before noon. If they kept a steady pace, the four could reach the site before the inhabitants started their day. Rick wanted to see the others in their natural state before "company" arrived. Daryl agreed with that plan, as did Sasha. If the place was as welcoming as the signs suggested, one or two of the four would return and get the others. That was Plan A.

 

Plan B covered the other side of the what if discussion. A little after noon, at least one of the four would return to the wildlife preserve office with news. Whether good or bad, word was to extend to those waiting for them. On the far, far side of what if, the possibility remained that none of them would be able to return. An argument had ensued between Dawn and Nik when she said the five would come for the missing four. They'd take out Terminus if they had to, but no matter what, they'd come.

 

Daryl hadn't been surprised when her husband argued against it, but what he should have expected but quite didn't was Michonne's quiet affirmation that she and Dawn would come together. Of course, Carl slipped into the conversation and Dominik joined in, too. Lorenzo rounded out the argument in opposition to his brother, whose face wore a mixture of pride and defeat.

 

That was last night. Now, they were at least an hour into their trek. Sasha had moved a few feet ahead and was walking beside Nik. Since their little flare up, he noticed a shift between him and her. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the change felt good. He liked knowing that there was something more between them and that maybe he wasn't so fucked up after all.

 

"Hey." Rick fell into step beside him. "You're quiet."

 

"So's everybody else," Daryl observed. "Ain't just me."

 

Rick nodded.

 

"Ain't no tellin' what we'll find there," Daryl said. "Maybe more of our people."

 

"Maybe not," Rick said, his voice low.

 

"Yeah, but you gotta figure if they saw the signs, they'd head that way."

 

"Yeah…"

 

"Whatcha thinkin'?" Daryl asked.

 

"Don't know." Rick shrugged. "So many times we go in blind."

 

"But we get out okay," Daryl said. "We ain't as dumb as we look."

 

"Not by half."

 

They laughed. After a few more steps, Rick added, "It would be good if it is legit, though. If it's a place where we can start over. It would be good for the boys."

 

Daryl nodded. "It would be good for all of us."

 

$%^&

 

Sasha glanced at the sky. The sunlight filtering through the tall branches informed her that they were making a good pace on their journey. They could reach the sanctuary before their predicted calculations. The sooner they arrived, the sooner she'd know whether or not her brother had made it this far. Maintaining focus in the midst of the unknown was one of the most difficult things she had ever known. People had always accused her or being too bossy or too strong. They really had no idea the toll the façade cost her. She felt Nik watching her and she gave him a faint smile.

 

"You have a good feeling about this place," Nik said.

 

"I wouldn't say that."

 

"I would," Nik commented, "by your body language. Your pace has increased in the last half hour or so."

 

"Has it?"

 

He nodded. "Yeah. You think we'll find sanctuary there?"

 

"Maybe," she said.

 

"But that's not what you're rushing to, is it?"

 

"And you tell Dawn she's nosy," Sasha said with a laugh.

 

"She is," Nik said, "but I am, too. We both are, I guess."

 

"She'll be happy to hear it if she hasn't called you on it already."

 

Nik grinned. "You're observant, too."

 

"You don't have to worry about them so much," Sasha offered, "but I guess that's like telling you not to breathe air."

 

"Pretty much." He glanced around. "It's so beautiful out here. So peaceful. Could be we're walking to something like that. Beautiful and peaceful. Could be we're not. Did you ever see one of those evacuation centers?"

 

"No, my brother and I bunked with Ty's neighbor in the beginning," Sasha said. "He was one of those survivalist guys. He had enough food and water for months. We used to think he was nuts, but not after this thing hit. Did you all stay in one?"

 

"Almost," Nik said. "We did a plan similar to this one. Lorenzo checked it out and we hung back and waited for his approval. I've never seen my brother run so fast before. He still won't tell me what he saw there."

 

"Hmm," she murmured. "What did you do instead?"

 

"We headed for the forests. We figured the further out we were, the better, but that wasn't necessarily true either." Nik shook his head. "It always comes down to a toss up."

 

Sasha nodded as she thought about his words. "If Terminus is safe, that will be good for all of us."

 

"But?"

 

"I…um…" She sighed. "Maybe the others from my group are there. Maybe my brother is."

 

Nik nodded. "I hope so, Sasha. I hope so."

 

$%^&

 

Rick alerted his group with a sharp whistle. They all stopped at once and looked at him. He pointed toward the continuous billow of black smoke. The aroma of something distinct drifted in the morning air, but he couldn't pinpoint it. The scent was unlike anything he was familiar with. Through a cluster of bushes, he noticed a chain linked fence. With silent signals, they decided to spread out and keep watch. Rick pointed at his watch and flashed his hand twice. After ten minutes of surveillance, they were to meet back at this point.

 

He found a sizable tree and clambered up its trunk. The branch held his weight well while giving him a good view of the ground below. A two-story brick building with impressive square footage consumed a good amount of the space. There were a few small gardens scattered throughout. Everything was well kept. Nothing seemed out of place. At the prison, mornings were rarely this quiet. People were always moving around, doing one chore or another. The lack of movement surprised him. What was the source of the smell? Where were the people?

 

A place the size of Terminus had to be structured. It couldn't thrive without organization and everyone working together. Rick wondered about the silence. Michonne had warned him about finding the balance between mistrust and listening to his instinct. She trusted his instinct, but he had to admit that she was living proof that his initial mistrust could be misguided. He left the seclusion of the branch and rejoined his friends who were now waiting for him.

 

"What y'all think?" Rick asked.

 

"It's quiet," Sasha said.

 

"The prison was never like this," Daryl added. "I bet we could hear a rabbit fart out here."

 

Nik nodded. "But it isn't empty. There must be people inside. It's too clean. Too organized."

 

"Yeah," Rick said, "that's it."

 

"Should we head back?" Daryl asked. He glanced at Sasha, concern marking the lines of his face. "Not take the risk?"

 

"We've come this far," she said, her eyes narrowing at him. "I say we go in. We can't turn back now."

 

"Something feels off," Daryl said, his jaw set. "It's stupid to go runnin' in there, knowin' shit ain't right--"

 

"Stupid?" Sasha cut in.

 

"Hey!" Rick whispered. "If y'all wanna go back, that's fine. Nik?"

 

"I'm good," he said. "We're here. Daryl has a good point, but turning back now will leave too many questions. I vote that we keep our eyes open and go ahead. What do you say, Rick?"

 

"The same." Rick stared first at Sasha and then at Daryl. "Y'all in or out?"

 

Daryl looked at Sasha. She nodded and he answered, "We're in."

 

"Okay, then."

 

Rick found a small tree with a nearby patch of soft dirt. He made a hole big enough for the duffel bag and set it inside.

 

"Wait," Nik said. He unzipped the bag and stuffed the map inside. "If it's wrong, I don't want to guide them straight back to our families."

 

"Everybody's got what they need?" Rick asked.

 

A series of nods was the response to his question. He replaced his Colt Python with an automatic pistol. Sasha traded her rifle for a pistol, too. While Nik and Daryl covered the hole, Rick marked the tree with symbols that he and Michonne had agreed upon. She had promised that she'd come for them, and he believed her. Her sword was a wonderful addition to any battle, but this small stash could come in handy to either of their groups, depending on circumstance.

 

The climb over the fence was quick. Once on the ground, Rick readied his pistol and headed toward what appeared to be the main building. That's where they found the hub of social activity. People of various ages and gender worked in what looked to be the communications center. An older white woman sat with headphones and spoke into a speaker. Her voice was calm and welcoming as she broadcast to the unknown that Terminus was a sanctuary to all. Rick and his people stopped short when a younger, tall white man noticed them.

 

"Well! Hello? The front door wasn't to your liking?" He gave the smile of a politician as he lowered his clipboard and came toward him. As he spoke, the workers paused to watch him and stare at Rick, Daryl, Sasha, and Nik.

 

"We didn't see it," Rick said.

 

"We have to make the sign bigger. I'm Gareth." He made sure to make eye contact with everyone. "We usually ask newcomers to relinquish their weapons when they come in. Our home is peaceful. We like to keep it that way."

 

"We're not here to cause a disturbance," Rick said.

 

"Would you mind putting them on the ground while Sonny checks you?" Gareth asked.

 

Rick shrugged. He and the others lowered their weapons to the concrete floor. Sonny, who looked to be in his mid to late twenties like Gareth stepped forward to search them. His pat down was quick and not nearly as thorough as what Rick would have done. When Sonny finished, he joined Gareth and nodded.

 

"Thanks," Gareth said. "We appreciate your cooperation. You can pick them up." He paused as if he was waiting for them to say something, but they only retrieved their weapons. "So I imagine you're curious about the place otherwise you wouldn't be here? Care to have a look around?"

 

"Sure," Rick said.

 

"Fine," Gareth said with a slight frown. "Follow me. Sonny, will you finish up for me? I don't know how long I'll be."

 

"No problem," Sonny said.

 

"This way." Gareth indicated with a sweep of his hand.

 

Rick glanced at his friends. They all wore tight expressions on their faces. Even Sasha who had tried to downplay her eagerness seemed more rigid and controlled. Daryl and Nik brought up the rear. Their hands were poised to grasp their weapons.

 

The welcome party of one led them from the building to an open courtyard with wooden benches. More people milled about, but the quiet remained unsettling. Gareth guided them past small gardens and an area where clothes dried on the line. The view was idyllic and had an old-time feel, as if they had gone back in time.

 

"Most buildings have housing. Everyone shares chores, but we try to fit according to skill and taste. We always look for the best fit."

 

"You keep saying 'we,'" Nik said. "Who is that?"

 

"It's how we…there I go again," Gareth said with a faint laugh. "It's our governing body. Even sanctuaries need structure. We have policies, rules, etc. All are expected to abide by them."

 

"What happens if they don't?" Daryl asked.

 

"Most do," Gareth responded. "Many find that living here is better than the uncertainty outside our fences. Here, there's shelter, food, and safety. Outside…well, you know what's out there. Otherwise you wouldn't have come here, right?"

 

"How are you able to manage the newcomers?" Sasha asked. "It looks big, but not big enough."

 

"We manage. We all work together to make it work," Gareth responded.

 

"Have there been many new arrivals lately?" she asked.

 

He paused to consider her question. "Are you looking for someone?"

 

"We’re just curious," Rick said. "The signs are everywhere. Where would you put us…if we decide to stay?"

 

"Oh, we can always find a place for you," Gareth said. "No need to worry about that."

 

Rick remembered Michonne's final words to him. The ones about the initial reaction to mistrust versus the stronger feeling in his gut that always guided him. Noon was still at least a couple of hours away. His gut told him that something was off. The people seemed too controlled and Gareth was just too fucking sure of himself. But one glance at Sasha who still held hope that her brother could be somewhere inside and another at Daryl who tried to hide his worries about Beth and Carol, Rick knew that they'd play Gareth's game a little longer until they had answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Thanks for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, and kudo-ing! I'm slow with responding to reviews this time around because of school. (Notice the shorter chapter? lol) In the goal to keep some kind of schedule, this is it. My fingers are crossed that "Part 13: Tracks" will be a little longer. I don't know about you all, but 5x09 just put me through the ringer. The shipper in me is losing her mind, but the rest of me is just numb. Spoilers had warned of this for weeks, but I still hoped for a different outcome. In other words, I wasn't ready. Sigh. FYI…regarding the Terminus arc, it won't exactly follow the series so this may take a few chapters to get us through it. Thanks again! ☺]


	13. Tracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans go askew at Terminus. Meanwhile back at the preserve, bonding happens as they await a sign from their loved ones.

Part 13: Tracks

 

The usual morning noises were fewer after the departure of the four, Michonne decided. A city girl in the time before, she acclimated to the loss of her favored amenities quickly because she had to. She learned how to live without electricity, running water, heat and A/C. Her mind trained her body to go days without food. In the midst of the changes, her senses adapted to the sounds of nature. If a deer suddenly stiffened, she did, too. A flock of birds overhead now symbolized more than the usual migration. Despite the less wildlife, the ones that remained were survivors and she respected their tenacious will to live. Like everything else, the great outdoors had survived in the land of the living dead, too.

 

Yesterday, she noticed pleasant bird songs and the busyness of squirrels, as they scampered up trees. Although they had arrived in the afternoon, the animals moved about and seemed unnerved by their presence. Today there was a lack of whistling and scurrying so Michonne grabbed her katana and headed out for a perimeter check. Lorenzo stood near Daryl's bike. He was still as if he too was on alert.

 

"Anything?" she asked.

 

"Nope." He shook his head. "I almost threw this thing away," he said, pointing at his watch. "Glad I didn't."

 

"How are they on time?"

 

"Not too long. Maybe an hour," Lorenzo said. He nodded toward her sword. "You see something?"

 

"Nah. Just need to look."

 

"I'll come, too."

 

Michonne shrugged. "I can do it."

 

"I know. I'm going crazy standing around," he said. "Before you came over, I was debating whether or not to store Daryl's Harley on the back of my truck."

 

"That won't be easy. Especially with that camper."

 

"Or without it," Lorenzo said. "I get restless. Easy doesn't matter. Which way first?"

 

"Toward the gate, around and back," she said.

 

They walked in companionable silence. The merging of the groups happened quickly. Her reservations about the Cassidy family had faded. She wasn't sure when it happened, but she had a good feeling about them. These days, no one shared war stories. Experiences were obvious in how a person carried himself. Judging from Lorenzo's careful steps and watchful gaze, he had encountered his share of trouble.

 

"Nice sword." He pulled the tire iron from his belt loop. "This is resilient, but I wish it was longer. Have better range. Less kick back on the splatter."

 

She bit back a chuckle. "Kick back?"

 

"You know," he said. "It's gross. I'm not less of a man for saying so."

 

"Does that matter now?" she asked.

 

"Probably not. I've always sucked at small talk."

 

"It's overrated," Michonne said.

 

The back of the preserve had an overgrowth of shrubbery. Michonne hacked through it with the katana. Lorenzo walked behind her. When they reached the far end of the building, the bushes evened out again and they moved into step together.

 

"Tell me about the guys who were with you before," Michonne said.

 

"Clay and Nash?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"They were cousins," Lorenzo said. "At least, that's what they told us. We were with another group and a herd came through. The six of us got out. We set up camp together because these days numbers matter."

 

"So how much of a threat are they?" she asked. "Or could they be?"

 

"We didn't kick them out if that's what you're asking." Lorenzo leaned against the concrete building. By now, they were on the opposite end of the gate. Another turn would have them near the front entrance again. He slipped the tire iron inside the loop as he said, "They just left. It was their choice, but the thing is, if we ran into them, I advise against welcoming them in."

 

Michonne nodded. "What's the deal with them?"

 

"Other than being dicks? Sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he said.

 

"It's fine. Do we have to worry about the boys?"

 

Lorenzo shook his head. "Not the way you think. If either of them had tried anything with Dom…" His face reddened. "It's not that they ever tried anything. They just had a way about them. Clay and I came across Daryl and Sasha while tracking a boar. If Daryl hadn't been there and Sasha had been alone, I can't say anything good would have come from it."

 

Michonne nodded. After the encounter with Joe's group, she wanted more than anything for them to be off the road and to find permanent shelter. People like Joe, the cousins, and Lee and Aaron were bolder now. They put no limits on whatever they wanted regardless the morality of their needs. But what was morality now? Law was gone. Surviving required finding others who were like-minded and staying together, becoming a family. And placing no limits on whatever was needed to keep that family whole.

 

Lorenzo touched her shoulder. "You don't have to worry about them."

 

"I'm not."

 

$%^&

 

"Hey!" Sasha's whisper was sharp. She caught Daryl's wrist and tugged until his pace matched hers. The four of them had been following Gareth around for so long that Sasha had lost track of time. His tour seemed neverending, but he had yet to direct them to anything of interest.

 

Daryl shifted his crossbow to his other shoulder so that they walked closer. "What?"

 

"I'm gonna look around—"

 

"The fuck you are."

 

"As long as Rick and you guys keep motor mouth distracted, I'll be fine," she said. "I'll be back before I'm missed."

 

"No way." Daryl's mouth tightened. "Ain't lettin' ya do it."

 

"He's not showing us everything," she argued. "You know it as well as I do. I don't like it."

 

Gareth stopped near an abandoned boxcar. Nik stepped between them and Rick, blocking them from Gareth's view. Their conversation halted while Gareth delivered his practiced lines.

 

"Living in a former train station has its perks. The boxcars aren't good living spaces, but we've found multiple uses for them."

 

"Yeah?" Rick said. His hand rested on his pistol.

 

"Storage namely," Gareth said. "With our doors always open, we've found a constant need for storage. I suppose it's not interesting. After being on the road, you want to know about running water and shelter. Well, you can see the shelter is plenty. Water comes from…"

 

Gareth's tour and explanations continued as he led them away from the boxcar. Sasha and Daryl moved at a slower pace while Nik continued to block them from Gareth's view.

 

"I can do this, Daryl," Sasha said. "We've passed A-building twice. He pretends like it isn't there. I wanna see wants in it."

 

"I'm going with y—"

 

"No, we can't both go. He'll notice," she argued. "I'll just peek inside. Cover for me."

 

"Come right back," he said. "If you don't, I'm coming after ya. I don't give a damn about Gareth."

 

"I know."

 

She waited until the men rounded a corner and then she doubled back toward building-A. The courtyard was open. It lacked people and that concerned her, too. Gareth droned on about everyone's comfort, but she had yet to see the proof. She made sure to use the building's shadows as cover as she headed toward the brick structure. Just as she closed in, voices sounded from the opposite direction.

 

Sasha ducked behind a barrel. Her pistol was ready in her hand. She drew in quiet breaths as she waited and listened.

 

"I don't know if they'll fit in," a man said. "Gareth is with a group now. They look as wild as the ones who showed up yesterday. I just don't know, Mary."

 

"Gareth can weed the bad ones out," Mary said. "He knows what to do. Our policies have worked since we figured out the rules. Have faith, Bruce. We'll never lose our home again."

 

"The big guy could be a problem. He didn't like that the women were separated—"

 

Mary's laughter cut him off. "One of them was his woman. He'll settle down. They always do. You worry too much…"

 

Their voices trailed off. Sasha couldn't decide between going inside building-A, looking for the different rooms, or returning to Daryl and the others. Her people needed to know what the plans were. Mary and Bruce's conversation hadn't revealed everything, but Sasha had heard enough to know that this wasn't the kind of sanctuary that they were looking for. The talk of the big guy made her wonder if they were referring to Tyreese.

 

_Dammit!_

 

The area was too big for her to search alone. She needed Daryl's help. Maybe the four of them could subdue Gareth and look for the other arrivals. Decision made, Sasha was about to head back when more voices drifted toward her. She ducked into an open door and stood flat against the wall.

 

No one followed. She waited anyway. After a few minutes passed, her breathing returned to normal and she noticed her surroundings. She was in a storage area that was about the size of two of the prison cells put together. Card tables lined the four walls. Each was covered with various objects. One quick glance and she spotted a familiar poncho, an Army jacket, and riot gear.

 

Sasha picked up the poncho for closer inspection. The markings were too spot on to be coincidence. Daryl used to wear the same poncho at the prison and Maggie had it when they were out on the road. Sasha knew it was the same. It had to be. She put it on and moved to the jacket. "Stookey" was etched on the pocket.

 

"Bob," she murmured.

 

Of course, the riot gear came from the prison, too. _They're here_ , she thought. Their people were at Terminus, too.

 

The far door creaked open. Sasha looked, but there was nowhere to hide. It was too late.

 

A male voice called out, "Hello?"

 

$%^&

 

Daryl kept looking over his shoulder. He guessed that Sasha had been gone about five minutes. It wasn't too long, but in a place like this, it was long enough. Rick's questions to Gareth had increased and Daryl had a good feeling that Rick knew Sasha had taken off. Nik moved into step with Daryl.

 

"How much longer?" Nik asked.

 

"For what?" Daryl asked.

 

"Til we go after her, or you do." Nik nodded toward Rick and Gareth. The two men's back was to them and they were in a deep discussion about some bullshit or another. "How do you wanna play it?"

 

"She went to building-A," Daryl said. "That's where I'm headed."

 

"We'll be behind you in a minute," Nik said.

 

Daryl had memorized every turn they made and reached the designated building with minor difficulty. Once he heard voices so he hid behind a dumpster. After the men walked away, he slipped inside double doors. Immediately, he sensed that something was wrong. He moved his crossbow from his shoulders and positioned it in case something or someone came in his sights.

 

"Sasha!" he whispered as he moved farther into the building, but his voice only echoed.

 

He came to a wide-open space that reminded him of a maze. Partitions created even-sized cubicles. Each section was a living space, but everything appeared too neat and tidy. There were perfectly made sleeping pallets and kerosene lamps on the floor. None of the cubicles had personal effects. Just a space to sleep. Since they hadn't seen anyone, he wondered who the hell slept there.

 

The sound of muted voices carried toward him and he crouched into one of the sleeping quarters. As they came closer, the tones became distinct. One was male and the other female. One set of footsteps sounded off, as if one of them had a limp. Daryl moved over to get a better view. Shadows appeared on the wall. A tall, lanky male form and the shorter figure of a woman.

 

"It's this way?" she asked.

 

The woman was Sasha. Without wasting a moment to second guess, Daryl stood with his crossbow poised. She turned, her pistol aimed at him. For a moment, they faced each other in attack mode until she smiled and lowered her weapon.

 

"I knew you'd come," she said quietly.

 

"Yeah," Daryl kept his bow up. A tall black kid was at Sasha's side. She wore Daryl's poncho, and the kid had no weapons. These days, that didn't matter. Daryl kept the stranger in his sights.

 

"You can put the bow down," she said. "He's okay."

 

"You sure?"

 

"His name's Noah," Sasha said. "This is Daryl."

 

"Hi," the younger man said. He frowned at the bow, watching it and Daryl closely as Daryl lowered the weapon to his side.

 

"He's not one of them. Our people are here." She plucked at his poncho that she wore. "Maggie…Bob…Beth. Noah knows where they are."

 

"And he'll just take us straight to 'em?" Daryl said. "We ain't seem 'em or anyone else since we left that radio room. How do you know he's not one of 'em?"

 

"You don't," Noah said. "All I can do is tell you and try to prove it. They're not what they pretend to be, and if you want to get out of here, you better do it now. There won't be another chance."

 

$%^&

 

First, Sasha left. Daryl followed a little later. Rick kept Gareth engaged in conversation during it all, but Rick knew the moment Gareth decided to drop the pretense of ignorance. The man's body language lost its languid fluidity and he became harder, losing the charming persona.

 

"Where did they go, Rick?" Gareth asked.

 

Rick shrugged. "Just looking around. If we're staying here, we need a better lay of the land."

 

"But this is _our_ home," Gareth said. "It's rude to overstep."

 

"I get that," Rick said, nodding. "I'll get them and we'll leave. No hard feelings."

 

Gareth gave him a tight smile. "If only it could be that simple, but we have a council. I have to discuss it with them first. Not that you've seen the place, you put my people in a precarious situation. You know our weaknesses. What if you decide to come back and attack? Those are things that the council and I will have to consider. Letting you go could cost us later. Terminus has survived because we have avoided making those kind of mistakes."

 

The younger man stated his case with calm assurance, but his tone failed to hide the darkness in his eyes. Rick didn't doubt the existence of the council. He simply didn't care. Getting his people out was all that mattered now.

 

"Go!" Rick screamed at Nik.

 

The two men ran in the direction that Daryl had taken. A group of armed men blocked them. Rick indicated for Nik to split up. They did, but it wasn't enough. Gareth's guards closed in. They used fists and the butt of their guns to subdue Rick and Nik. One blow struck the back of Rick's head and the bright sunlight faded to black.

 

Later, Rick awakened in what had once been the train station's baggage room. Nik was also coming to on the floor beside him. Of course, they had been stripped of their weapons. The space was short on light, but there was enough for the shadows to become the shapes of people. Rick blinked and rubbed his eyes. He tried to stand, but his body and head ached.

 

"Rick? Hey, it's Glenn. Bob's here, too."

 

Glen helped him up. Eye to eye, Rick saw that his mind wasn't playing tricks. He'd been reunited with his people.

 

"Hey," he said. "That's Nik."

 

Nik rubbed the back of his hand as he stumbled to his feet. "What is this place?"

 

"Some type of holding cell," growled a tall man with a red crew cut. "It's bullshit. We've been in here for over a day at least. Sanctuary my ass."

 

"That's Abraham," Bob said. He asked, "Carl?"

 

"Safe," Rick said with a faint smile, "with Michonne. They're both safe."

 

"How long have we been in here?" Nik asked.

 

"Twenty minutes?" Glenn said.

 

"Maybe they got away," Nik said to Rick.

 

"Who?" Abraham barked.

 

"Daryl and Sasha," Rick said in a low voice.

 

"She's okay?" Bob asked. "Sasha's here. We lost her in the fog. Maggie and I looked, but we couldn't find her. Then more walkers came… She's okay?"

 

Rick nodded. "Yeah. She's okay."

 

"Is this building-A?" Nik asked. "She and Daryl were planning to check it."

 

"Nah," Glenn said. "It's some old baggage room. Building-A is on the other side."

 

"Where's Maggie?" Rick asked.

 

"They took the women," Abraham said. "We don't know where."

 

Rick nodded toward the quiet man with the mullet hair cut. He sat in the corner, his knees drawn to his chest. "What's his deal?"

 

"That's Eugene" Glenn said.

 

"He knows the cure," Bob added.

 

"I'm getting him to Washington so we can beat this shit," Abraham said. "Come hell or high water."

 

"The cure?" Nik repeated. "What good will going to Washington do? They bombed Atlanta."

 

"Their infrastructure is sound," Eugene said, "and the rest is classified."

 

Nik frowned at Rick. "How long have you been in here?" Nik asked.

 

"Since yesterday," Glenn answered.

 

"Shit got crazy quick," Abraham added.

 

"We tried to leave. They attacked and separated us," Bob said. "It happened fast."

 

"Think it's noon, yet?" Nik asked.

 

"What happens at noon?" Abraham asked. "If you're hungry, I'd think twice about eating their grub. Shit don't smell right."

 

"Plan B," Nik said.

 

"What the fuck is Plan B?" Abraham folded his arms across his chest.

 

The ringing in Rick's ears had stopped. His vision was clear now, too. He noted the dimensions of the room and its few windows, which were close to the ceiling and out of reach. Gareth hadn't included this building in his grand tour. One of the many things he probably hadn’t wanted Rick and his friends to see. Escaping could prove a challenge, but it wouldn't be impossible.

 

"I don't want them coming in to this," Nik said.

 

"Me either," Rick agreed.

 

"Plan B?" Abraham repeated, impatiently.

 

"Our people," Rick said, "will come for us if we don't come back."

 

Abraham grunted. "What if they don't?"

 

"They will," Rick said, " but even if they can't it won't matter."

 

"Why not?" Eugene asked.

 

Rick looked around at both strangers and friends before finally settling his gaze on Glenn. Then he gave a short nod. "Because they don't know who they're fucking with."*

 

$%^&

 

Dawn decided to check the traps with the boys for two reasons. One, she didn't want them out there alone, and two, she needed a distraction. If Nik saw her now, he wouldn't believe it. Hiking wouldn't come as a surprise, but handling a dead rabbit with its fur intact was not her thing. The rustic lifestyle was about surviving. She wasn't fool enough to believe that what they had before would ever return to what it used to be. Still, she hoped for a better way. A place where the boys could sleep without having to keep weapons close by. For food and shelter. Her daughter.

 

"Mama!" Dominik nudged her and pointed. "Look."

 

He had been pointing out tracks since they started. Daryl's quick lesson had been a goldmine. She nodded and asked if the tracks belonged to a raccoon.

 

Carl laughed softly. "Not exactly."

 

"A deer." Dom shook his head in embarrassment. "We should get it."

 

"We're checking traps," she said, "not hunting deer. I don't want to get too far from our spot. They should be back soon."

 

"It's fresh meat," Dom argued. "It'll be enough to feed all of us."

 

"I'm sure we could get it," Carl added. "I don't think it's too far."

 

"We shouldn't waste the ammo—"

 

"I can use the crossbow."

 

Dawn squeezed her son's shoulder. She said, "Let's keep checking the traps first."

 

They located the next trap behind a large oak tree. Carl bent down and unraveled the rabbit from the twine. He stuffed the dead animal inside his sack. The next trap was empty. They kept walking until they located the final one. Dawn was certain it had been tampered with, but she wasn't sure if the culprits were other animals, the dead, or the living. She glanced at the sun high above them, the heat burning into her face, and decided that noon was soon upon them.

 

"Let's head back," she said.

 

Carl frowned. "We could set more before we leave."

 

"No," she said, "we have enough for now."

 

Dawn didn't want to tell the boys, but the final trap had spooked her. The others had been so meticulously put together that the disarray with the last one made her wary. Something was off. Of course it could have been nerves about Nik being away from them, but she thrived on being safe rather than sorry.

 

The three followed the same path back to the reserve, careful with their movements and quiet with their thoughts. With her unease growing, Dawn kept a watchful eye out for animals and anything else. Because of their lack of chatter, the sudden snap of twigs echoed loudly on the forest floor. The three stopped in unison. Dawn motioned for the boys to get into formation. Their backs pressed against each other as each searched for the source of the noise.

 

Dawn felt her son nudge her back. "What?" she asked.

 

"Tracks," Dominic said. "Human."

 

"It's not theirs," Carl said. "Not my dad or yours. It's the wrong direction."

 

"Run!" Dawn said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Thanks for reading following, favoriting, reviewing, and kudo-ing. And a big thank you for your patience. I think the Terminus arc will wrap up in two chapters but we will see. After that, I'm debating how closely I will continue to follow the series. I began this chapter before the episode "Forget" aired, and somehow I kept my feels out of it when I completed it. Please send positive vibes for this fic and the others because the Rick Grimes on the series is not the one I fell for. I'm really hoping the finale blows my mind in a good way. If anyone has a positive spin for the episode "Forget" and what is happening with Rick, please feel free to share. Please!!! ☺
> 
> *"They don't know who they're fucking with" is from 4x16 as we all know. I plead guilty for being unable to resist including it here although the context is slightly different. Please know, the sentiment is the same.]


	14. Plan B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plan B goes into action as Michonne, et al infiltrate Terminus in search of Rick and the others.

Part 14: Plan B

 

The trek from the railroad tracks couldn't have been more than two miles, but the man was dragging. He had fought his way through a small herd of dead ones and while dodging a larger herd, tripped, and tore a sizable slash in his side. Fighting had always been a part of his life, but since the world changed, the score was uneven. Balance ceased to exist. He patted the revolver at his hip, and the blood-splattered ax at his thigh swung with each step. A heavier burden weighed on his back in the canvas knapsack he carried. He had protection. Shelter was what he lacked. For days or maybe weeks, he had walked the forest alone, but now voices drifted toward him. The weight of the weapons and sharp pain in his side reminded him that hallucinations were not plaguing him. He stopped behind the trunk of a wide oak and waited.

 

A brown-skinned woman with long braided hair and two boys, one with a big brown hat, ran in single file past him. He got his bearings and followed, picking up the pace despite his injuries. A clearing appeared ahead and a single story nondescript building sat in the center. Three vehicles and a Harley were parked out front. He lost sight of the trio, but he wagered on revealing himself despite the new tendency to avoid strangers.

 

Just as he made about 200 feet, a black woman with locs and a sword came into view. A white man with a tire iron stood several yards away on the opposite end, and the white boy with the sheriff's hat leveled a pistol straight at his head.

 

"No harm," the man whispered, raising his hands, as his legs grew tired and he dropped to his knees. "C-come in peace."

 

"Drop the ax," the woman said.

 

He obeyed and the weapon landed on the dry ground with a soft thud.

 

"Got a gun, too," the man with the tire iron said.

 

"Drop it."

 

He did.

 

"He followed us from the woods," the kid said. "It's him."

 

"He's bleeding," the woman pointed to the man's side. "Were you bit?"

 

"No. Fell on a rock," he said. "No bite marks. You can check."

 

He moved to lift his shirt, but the effort winded him. Actually, the running had been too much. He became woozy. His eyes drifted and without his permission, he fell face first into the dirt. When he woke up, he was flat on his back with his wrists and ankles tied. The knapsack and his other weapons were gone.  A ceiling was above him and a hard floor rested beneath him. He heard voices again, agitated voices that hinted at frustration and anger.

 

"Should've been back by now."

 

"We can't just leave him here."

 

"We can't take him with us."

 

"Someone has to stay."

 

"I'll do it."

 

"No, go with Michonne. I'll stay."

 

"Hell no. No way I'm leaving you alone with him."

 

"I'm fine. Besides, he's hurt and tied up. Go with her. Don't waste anymore time."

 

"The boys will stay—"

 

"Nope. Take 'em."

 

"Carl can go. I'm staying with you."

 

"But—"

 

"Dad would want me to. I want to."

 

"Found rockets and a launcher in the backpack."

 

"We're taking it."

 

He tried to turn toward the voices, but the ache hadn't lessened. And the ways his wrists were tied, twisting was not an option. They were nearby but not close enough to see. He tried to distinguish personalities by tone and content, but his instincts were failing him. The only thing clear was a strong sense of urgency and an intense distrust of him. Another wave of dizziness came on and he closed his eyes to ward off the worst. Moments later, he felt the warmth of a body next to his but not touching him and a cool, wet cloth wiping his face.

 

He willed his eyes to open and he saw her peering down at him. A pretty brown face with piercing dark eyes. He murmured, "Cassie."

 

"No," she said gently. "Is she your wife?"

 

He blinked. His focus cleared and he saw that her complexion was a shade darker than the woman he had loved and lost. "No, she wasn't. Can you let me out of these? I'm losing circulation."

 

"No can do." She shook her head. "The gash has been stitched and bandaged. You lost a lot of blood, but you'll live. We have water and some food to spare."

 

"My hands are tied—"

 

"And they'll stay that way," said the white guy. The tire iron hung at his belt loop. A scowl darkened his brow. He glanced at the woman in a way to hint that they shared some kind of history. Maybe not sexual, but something. "I'm not sure about this."

 

"We'll be fine. The ties are secure," she said. "You won't try anything stupid. Will you…?"

 

"You want my name?" the man asked. "I'm trussed like a pig for slaughter and you want my name."

 

"We're wasting time," the darker-skinned woman said. She pulled her sword free of its sheath and brushed past the white guy.

 

"Dean!" the man said in a rushed breath. "Dean Winchester."

 

"Dean?" the woman at his side repeated. "There's Michonne, Lorenzo, Carl, and Dominik."

 

"And you?"

 

"Dawn," she said. "Why did you follow us?"

 

"Hungry. Tired. The usual. You looked clean. You had food."

 

"It's past noon," Carl said.

 

"What happened at noon?" Dean asked.

 

"Nothing that concerns you," Michonne said, her gaze wary as she stared at him.

 

"Maybe I can help," he said, tugging at his wrists, "if you get these off."

 

"Not gonna happen," Lorenzo said. He glared at Dawn. His tight jaw revealed that he held in a lot more.

 

"I'm a good fighter," Dean added. "Fought off a herd. Another one's coming. I saw them. This place may be safe, but maybe not where you're headed. I _can_ help."

 

"No," Michonne said. "We're wasting time."

 

"Dawn?" Lorenzo said.

 

"Go!" Dominik added. "Please, Uncle. We'll be fine."

 

Lorenzo nodded. Michonne and Carl left the room, but Lorenzo lingered, his stare fixed on Dean. "They will be the same as we've left them or I swear, when I'm done with you, you'll wish that walkers had found you first."

 

"No harm will come to them," Dean said. "You have my word."

 

$%^&

 

Michonne registered Lorenzo's distraction. It was understandable that he didn't feel comfortable leaving his family with a stranger, but she had no doubt that Dawn and her son could handle themselves. The Cassidy family wasn't like the shrinking violets who pissed in their panties at the first sign of trouble. Women couldn't stand around, shaking and crying, waiting for their man or any man to step up to play protector. A smart woman learned how to do the deed for herself. Michonne had seen Dawn wield her ax without hesitation. Leaving her behind to stand watch over Winchester and their sanctuary had been the right call. Lorenzo needed to walk it off. Michonne would give him until Terminus. Then his head had better be in the game or he'd have her to answer to.

 

"They'll be fine," Carl said. "Don't worry."

 

"I'm not," Lorenzo said, but the words sounded so false that he looked at them both and grimaced. "Maybe I am. I can't help it."

 

"We get it," Michonne said.

 

"What do you think we'll find there?" Carl asked, his voice low.

 

"If it was good, they would've come back for us," she stated. "You know that."

 

The boy sighed. "I know."

 

"Rick is strong," she added. "So are the rest of them."

 

They walked the next half-mile in silence. Dry leaves crackled beneath their footsteps. The trail their friends had left was faint, but distinct enough to follow. Designated signs led them to a soft mound of dirt and leaves where a small arsenal had been buried.

 

"Dad's machete."

 

"Leave it," Michonne said. "We'll take what we need and know that we have more if necessary."

 

No sooner than she had handed the AK-47 to Lorenzo and agreed to Carl taking the Colt then the rat-a-tat-tat of rapid gunfire filled the quiet afternoon. Lorenzo quickly kicked dirt over the duffel bag that contained the weapons. With a faint nod, the trio raced toward the noise.

 

The former rail station was a mass of confusion. People were running a stampede like wild animals. Michonne searched faces but recognized no one until the familiar shape of a crossbow came into view. Then she saw Daryl with his hand firmly attached to Sasha's. A tall brown-skinned male led them amid the chaos, away from the running group into a line of discarded railcars.

 

Michonne pointed with her katana. "We go that way."

 

Careful to avoid discovery, the three scaled the fence and landed inside the so-called sanctuary. The running residents were not as difficult to avoid as Michonne had first imagined. They appeared to be involved in a drill or maybe they were headed toward the gunfire. Michonne was curious about that, too, but having seen Daryl and Sasha, they were her main priority.

 

She felt Carl and Lorenzo right at her back. With the crowd moving against them, only the odd shape of Daryl's crossbow allowed her to keep track of him and Sasha. Just a few yards separated them. Months ago, she and Daryl had worked out a series of whistles. The high-pitched tones helped worked better than yelling while they searched the back roads for the governor. Despite being slightly winded, she released one of the calls through tightly pursed lips.

 

He stopped while Michonne and her followers continued to run toward them. When the two groups reunited, Daryl muttered, "It ain't no sanctuary."

 

"We figured that," Michonne said.

 

"Where's my dad?"

 

"And my brother?" Lorenzo added.

 

"We're not sure," Daryl said.

 

"They gotta be in one of the holding cells," the tall black young man said. "We gotta hope it's that."

 

"Who're you?" Michonne asked.

 

"Noah," Sasha said. "Michonne, Carl, and Lorenzo. He's taking us to the women."

 

"Just the women?" Lorenzo asked. "They separate by gender?"

 

Daryl gave a curt nod. "Yeah."

 

"We'd better hurry," Noah said. "I don't know what they're shooting at, but I know it can't be good."

 

$%^&

 

When Daryl heard the whistle, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was bad enough that the four of them had been locked into the shithole of Terminus. He had some hope for Michonne and Carl and the remaining Cassidy clan that they'd get out alive. He squeezed Sasha's hand. Whatever happened next, he would go out fighting. He had to for his family and for his woman.

 

_His woman_.

 

He shook his head. Never saw that coming, but there it was. As if reading his mind, Sasha tugged on him, pulling him into the entrance of yet another warehouse. Although she hadn't said much, her hope to find her brother somewhere inside one of these walls was strong. If Daryl could, he'd spare her any disappointment. Everyone split after the prison fell. If Tyrese was lucky, he never saw the Terminus signs and he didn't remember the radio broadcast that came through during their run for meds right before they lost everything. Daryl hoped they would find Tyrese on the other side of this hellhole.

 

"It's one room over," Noah said, his voice low, just above a whisper.

 

"How do you know the exact location?" Sasha asked.

 

"Gareth doesn't see me as a threat because of my bum leg," he said with a shrug. "I bring the women food. Escort them to the showers."

 

"How long have you been here?" Michonne asked.

 

"Long enough to know I can't stay," Noah said. "Daryl's right. It's not a sanctuary."

 

"What is it?" Carl asked.

 

"Hell."

 

Noah stepped first into the darkened hall. A small square window from the far wall provided just enough sunlight. He fumbled in his pocket for a set of keys. Before he unlocked the door, he rapped his knuckles against the frame in a coded series. A familiar voice called from the other side.

 

"Noah?"

 

"Beth!" Carl stepped to the door.

 

Michonne quickly pulled him close. "Wait!"

 

"It's me—"

 

"Who's with you?" Beth asked, interrupting Noah. "You're not alone."

 

"No, I have friends. It's okay. Don't be scared," Noah said. "Today's the day."

 

As Noah unlocked the door, Daryl found himself holding his breath. Beth waited on the other side of that door. She had been found. She wasn't lost forever. Sasha squeezed his hand and then her grip loosened, but he wouldn't let her go. Noah pushed the door open. Beth stood in the center of the room, her round eyes were wide and disbelieving. But she was there and alive.

 

"Oh my God," she gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. "How did you…? Michonne…Carl…Sasha…Daryl. Is Maggie okay? Glenn? Where's Rick?"

 

"We don't have time," Michonne said. "We have to go."

 

"The shooting has stopped," Lorenzo said quietly.

 

"Do you know where the men are kept?" Michonne asked Noah.

 

"Some of them," he said. "They move them around…for different reasons. I know places we can check."

 

"We'd betta get a move on then," Daryl said. He smiled at Beth. "You made it."

 

"Not quite," she murmured.

 

"You're not dead," he said. "C'mon."

 

$%^&

 

Sasha refused to allow herself to think about Tyrese. The need to find him had intensified the moment Daryl's eyes lit at the sound of Beth's voice. She refused to let herself dwell on that either. He still had a strong grip on her hand, and every time she tried to set him free, he held her tighter. No, she would not think about things that caused her emotions to conflict with common sense. Terminus was no sanctuary and they needed all of their wits to get the group back together and get the hell out. Allowing feelings in now was a setup for failure. If Sasha prided herself on anything, it was her ability to succeed despite whatever was stacked against her.

 

"This way!" Noah ran. His limp offered a mild hindrance. Still the young man navigated them through the maze of abandoned railcars like a tour guide at a museum. He had not missed one turn. Sasha guessed that he been planning this exit for weeks.

 

At the end of one long line of railcars, he stopped. The sound of chaos had changed. The frenzy had a different tone. Sasha couldn't place it, but she sensed that the difference would not bode well for them. Daryl finally released her hand to ready to his crossbow. He gestured with his chin for the others to draw their weapons. She noticed that everyone was already of the same accord, except for Beth and Noah who were weaponless. Noah flattened against the railcar wall, easing himself down low to peer around the corner.

 

"Shit!" he whispered, quickly sliding back to face them. "They're heading back from the fences. Looks like they're running a search."

 

"For me?" Beth asked.

 

Noah shrugged. "Could be. I don't know."

 

"Need a distraction," Daryl muttered. He grabbed a bolt and moved it into place.

 

"Wait," Lorenzo said. "Michonne's got something better."

 

Michonne handed Carl the katana and tugged the knapsack open in one fluid motion. She had no idea why Dean Winchester had rockets and a launcher, nor did she care. Her hands were steady, as she put the contraption together. Now she needed a match and a target.

 

"Winchester saw a herd," Michonne said. "We smelled them. They're headed this way."

 

"Get their fences and they're off our asses," Daryl said.

 

"I saw a gas tank near the fence—"

 

"Where?" Michonne asked, cutting Sasha off.

 

"Come on," Sasha said. "I'll show you."

 

Daryl frowned.

 

"We'll see you on the other side," Sasha promised.

 

"Find the others," Michonne said gently. "We got this."

 

Daryl nodded slowly. He reached into his pocket before taking Sasha's hand again. One final squeeze and a Bic lighter rested in her palm.

 

Sasha grabbed the knapsack and the katana, and the two women headed back in the direction they had come. Sasha couldn't look back. One look and Daryl would be at her side. That much she knew, but the others needed him. He was smart and quick. After the explosion, hell would break loose and they'd need Daryl to navigate the crazy to find Rick, Nik, and the rest of their group.

 

"Which way?" Michonne asked in a harsh whisper.

 

Sasha led them to the cover of another railcar. From this distance, Michonne had a perfect shot at the tank and the railcar should help them remain steady during the worst of the blast. Sasha handed over Daryl's lighter. Michonne aimed the missile and lit the fuse.

 

The rocket carried through the wind amid a piercing whistle. The women braced themselves against the car, squatted low, and covered their ears. Despite her career as a firefighter, Sasha had never seen such a magnificent array of flames. Walkers and the living alike careened from the force of the explosion. The shaking ground made her heart pound. She looked at Michonne to remind herself that this was real and that they were alive.

 

"Let's go," Michonne said, grabbing her arm and tugging them both upright.

 

The chaos of before did not compare to the madness created by the rocket launcher nailing its target. Screams echoed around them. The stench of walkers grew stronger, so they picked up the pace. Sasha's instincts told her to head toward building-A and the women ran at full speed in that direction.

 

$%^&

 

"It's a good lock," Rick said, kneeling at the doorknob, "but it's not a deadbolt."

 

He used the prong from his belt to work the tumblers inside the keyhole. With his ear pressed against the knob and the cooperation of his silent companions, Rick heard the exact moment his plan worked. He stood, unlocked the door, and eased it open. Seconds later, the ground shook violently. Plaster splattered to the floor.

 

"Come on!" Rick yelled.

 

They ran through the darkened corridors. Rick followed the light that cast a faint glow along the floorboards. Soon, they reached the entry way and the open door.

 

"Sonuvabitch," Abraham muttered. "Did the fucker explode?"

 

"Grab whatever you can," Rick advised.

 

He and Glenn broke the legs off chairs. Nik, Abraham, and Bob did the same. Eugene followed close behind when they ran outside. Smoke hung heavy in the air. The stench of walkers mingled with the acrid scent of gasoline and gunfire. Rick pulled his t-shirt over his mouth and nose and ran into the open courtyard. Gunfire pierced the air, but for a change, Rick and his family weren't the target. Walkers had Terminus under attack. Rick guessed the explosion had set the sanctuary up as a buffet for the closest herd. If he could only get his hands on a gun…

 

"Rick!"

 

He stopped short at Daryl's call. The sight of Carl made Rick's heart pound. Why did noon have to come so quickly? And if Carl was there, where was Michonne?

 

"C'mon!" Daryl yelled, waving his arm. "We ain't got much time."

 

"Michonne?"

 

"She's comin'!" Daryl said.

 

"We gotta find Maggie," Glen said. "I'm not leaving without her."

 

"Rosita, too," Abraham barked.

 

Rick nodded. "We're not leaving without everybody."

 

They ran toward Daryl's group. Two walkers came from nowhere. One lay claim to Eugene while the other focused on Bob. Abraham moved swiftly to protect his charge. Glenn swung the chair leg hard on the base of the walker's skull, freeing Bob from its grip.

 

"Bit?" Glenn asked.

 

Bob breathed hard as he shook his head. "Not scratched either."

 

"We need guns!" Rick said, as they continued their run. As soon as they reached their friends, Carl pressed the Colt into his father's hands. Rick offered his son a faint smile.

 

"Where's Dawn?" Nik asked, accepting the AK47 from his brother. "Dom?"

 

Lorenzo frowned. "They stayed behind at the preserve."

 

"Are they okay?" Nik asked.

 

"They're fine—"

 

"What's wrong?" Nik persisted.

 

"Nothing. Someone had to stay so they volunteered—"

 

"We can save the warm and fuzzy fucking family reunion for when bullets aren't whizzing past our ears and the dead ones aren't chomping on our asses," Abraham cut in. "I gotta find my woman. So does Glenn."

 

"So do I," Rick and Daryl stated quietly, but loud enough that both men heard the other.

 

"Sometimes they use another railcar as a holding area," the tall black kid said.

 

"Who the fuck are you?" Abraham said. "You're one them, ain't you?"

 

"No."

 

"He's Noah," Daryl said, stepping between the kid and the beefy redhead. "He's with us."

 

"Where's the railcar?" Rick asked.

 

Noah waved his hand and the men followed. Rick reached Beth. He gave her the chair leg and briefly squeezed her shoulder. "We'll find Maggie."

 

She nodded.

 

Although Noah claimed the lead, Rick led the group through the onslaught of walkers. Gunfire continued to rain around them. Through the clouds of dust and gun blasts, he searched for signs of Michonne and Sasha. But the mass of everything—people and walkers—was too much. Finally, Noah pointed toward a trio of railcars. Abraham, Glenn, and Bob ran to check them while Rick, Daryl, Nik, Lorenzo, Carl, and Beth guarded the perimeter. Eugene stood scared and trembling.

 

"Got 'em!" Abraham bellowed.

 

Then the men returned with three women. Rick recognized Maggie, but the other brunettes were strangers. The women had makeshift weapons that they must have created inside the railcar. He nodded at Maggie in acknowledgment. A stronger welcome would happen later. Daryl nudged him.

 

"C'mon."

 

They pushed on, fighting when necessary and dodging when it was the best option. In the back of Rick's mind, he wondered about Gareth, but Michonne's whereabouts had top precedence. Soon the fence came into view. He waved for the others to go. Carl protested, but Rick refused to budge.

 

"Go!" He told his son. "Stay with Glenn and Maggie. Take them to the preserve."

 

Nik and Lorenzo offered to stay, too, but Rick declined their offer. From Lorenzo's relieved expression, Rick wondered if he had missed something. There was no time to ask. Everyone left and only Daryl and Rick remained.

 

"We'll find 'em," Daryl stated.

 

"What if they're already over the fence?" Rick said as they both started running back through the crowds headed toward them.

 

"Michonne wouldn't leave without you."

 

Rick nodded. "Sasha wouldn't leave you either."

 

As they worked their way back, Rick realized that most of the Terminus residents were now walker buffet or a part of the walker stampede. A few yards ahead, he thought he caught a glimpse of Gareth's dark hair and lanky form. Movement of others altered Rick's view, and he couldn't be sure. Then he spotted long dark braids and the glint of steel coming toward them.

 

"There she is," he said.

 

"I see 'em."

 

The reunion was quick. The two couples headed for the fences without harm to themselves, but Rick lost count of the number of walkers they killed. Once they climbed over the fence, Rick couldn't stop himself from holding Michonne close. He noticed that Daryl was the same with Sasha.

 

"What did you do?" he asked. His fingers dug into her waist as he resisted the urge to hold her tighter. "That explosion was you, wasn't it?"

 

"Sasha helped," Michonne said, a faint smile at her full lips.

 

"Where did you find explosives?" Rick asked.

 

Michonne said, "About that…"

 

They checked the dirt patch for the duffel of weapons and then began the trek back to the wildlife preserve. Rick shouldered the bag. His other hand took hold of Michonne's.

 

"Were explosives at the preserve?"

 

"Dawn stayed behind to watch the new guy," Michonne said. "We acquired it from him."

 

"You just left her and Dom with a stranger?" Sasha asked.

 

"He's tied up."

 

"Nik won't care," Daryl said, quietly. "May be a problem when we get back."

 

"I'll handle it—"

 

"She chose to stay," Michonne cut in, interrupting Rick. "Besides if Nik takes issue, I'll talk to him."

 

Rick nodded.

 

"I will," she insisted.

 

Rick smiled. Her responding glare made him chuckle. The time at Terminus was less than half a day. He and his people had been through bad situations. This one had felt like one of the worst. One day, the craziness had to stop. There had to be place where they could just be. All of them needed that.

 

"You're a real firecracker now," Daryl said to Sasha.

 

"Don't start," she said, but there was a smile in her voice.

 

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Rick enjoyed the sounds of nature, rustling leaves, the few scurrying squirrels, and the feel of Michonne's hand against his. When the single-story building came into view, the four of them paused. Everyone milled around outside, waiting for them. For a fleeting moment, Rick had entertained the possibility of returning to Terminus and ending it all, but seeing his group changed his mind. The future was before him. Terminus and all the other bullshit that had happened to them was in the past. He had to learn how to let shit go.

 

"What next?" Michonne asked.

 

"We find a real sanctuary," Rick said, "or we make our own."

 

The next steps to their family and friends were both the longest and the shortest steps that Rick could remember taking, but they made it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Thanks for reading, bookmarking, kudo-ing, and commenting. An unforeseen medical emergency put an immediate halt to writing in March and I'm just now able to write again, but there are limits. With that said, I appreciate your patience and welcome everyone who's new to the story. 
> 
> Hallelujah, the Terminus arc is over! I can say with some certainty that future events will take a slight detour from the series. Father Gabriel may or may not show up. I haven't decided, yet. The events at Grady Memorial Hospital won't be a part of this universe. Some characters may meet adventures (death even) that are not similar to the comics or the series. Be warned that this fic will be a long one. The other fics set in ASZ will be much shorter than this. I hope to work on them soon. Again, thanks for your reading and especially for your patience. Dean Winchester may not be the last crossover, but for those in the SPN fam, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the addition. I'd love to hear them even if you're not. ☺
> 
> Despite the inclusion of most of the family & newcomers, the focus of the fic will continue to revolve around Richonne, Dasha, and the Cassidy clan. I think. ;-)]


	15. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Families are reunited, but things are not harmonious as they adjust to each other.

Dawn stood with her hip against the window, her hand wrapped around the ax handle, and her gaze darting between the open forest and the secured stranger. His green eyes never wavered from her and she refused to be disturbed by his scrutiny. If anything, she was more concerned about the three who had left close to an hour ago. Although she and her son hadn't spoken for several minutes, she sensed Dom's agitation as clearly as if he had confided in her. Noon had passed, and only something beyond Nik's control would prevent him from coming back to them.

 

"I can help them," Dean said, his voice straining in a deep, husky rasp.

 

Dawn shook her head. The conversation had been on repeat since Lorenzo left with Michonne and Carl. She understood his desire for freedom, but untying him on a whim was foolish. It wasn't that she harbored distrust like with the cousins Clay and Nash. He didn't give off that vibe. But there was something else about him. Something that she could not define. She felt it every time their gazes connected.

 

"This is a waste," Dean grunted, indicating the binding that kept him secured. "I'm not a threat. I _can_ help. At least, let me be a lookout for you and your boy."

 

"Mama..." Dom said as he moved from one window to another. "Ask him the questions."

 

"Ask me!" Dean said. Then he added, "What questions?"

 

Dawn ignored him and looked at her son. "Those questions are for people who stay. We can't make that call yet."

 

"How many's in your group?" Dean asked. "I don't always do well with crowds, but there's safety in numbers if nobody's a punk bitch. Um, sorry. You know what I mean."

 

She frowned at him.

 

Dean grinned. "Okay. That was presumptuous. Of course, a smart, beautiful woman like yourself wouldn't give that kind of info away."

 

"Hey!" Dom stepped to his mother's side.

 

"No disrespect."

 

Dawn studied Dean. Having bandaged and stitched his wounds, she knew that he carried the normal scars and bruises of true survivors in this new world. He also had the body of a man who knew how to protect himself. She dared another glance into his eyes, and that's when she realized that underneath the loud bravado, there was some sincerity.

 

She sighed and said, "How many walkers have you killed?"

 

His eyes widened and narrowed at the question. "Walkers, huh? More than I can count."

 

She nodded. "How many people?"

 

His mouth tightened, but he didn't look away. "Five."

 

"Why?" Dom asked.

 

A muscle flickered at Dean's jaw. No doubt he didn't like having a teen interrogate him, but he wanted the questions, Dawn thought. Her grip on the ax handle tightened and she lifted her chin.

 

Dean answered, "Three tried to run over our camp. The two were attacking a mother and her daughter."

 

Before Dawn or Dom could respond, the ground trembled. She looked at her son, and he clutched his crossbow. Dom was poised to run outside, but she shook her head.

 

"Sounds like something from my stash," Dean said. "I guess they reached Terminus. I hope they burn the fucker to the ground. Excuse me. Burn the hellhole. It's rotten filth. If you untie me, I can help your family."

 

His tone was so inviting, but Dawn was not inclined to accept. Instead, she said, "Want some water. We have granola bars. Hungry?"

 

His eyebrows quirked. "Got pie?"

 

"We haven't found any so far."

 

Dean grimaced. "The granola will do."

 

Dawn nodded at her son, and he tossed a couple of granola bars at Dean. As the man tore in the wrapper, she directed her attention toward the window. A cloud of smoke hung in the distance. She readied herself for more trembles, but none came. Patience was a virtue that she worked on, so waiting was painful. She hated to consider the "what ifs," but they always lingered in the back of her mind. If the others didn't make it, she and Dom would carry on, but what to do with Dean? Dawn supposed she would let him go. Still, it was too soon to make that call.

 

Minutes that felt like hours passed. After a while, movement shifted the foliage. She clutched the ax and watched. Dom moved to her side.

 

"What is it?" Dean asked. "I can help!"

 

"Ssh!" Dawn said harshly. Her gaze remained trained on the forest.

 

Soon, she realized that the group was alive and not roaming walkers. At first, she recognized no one. Then a familiar tall, dark, handsome man rushed across the parking lot.

 

"Dad!" Dom ran from the building before she could blink.

 

Dawn spared Dean one glance and then she was right behind her son, letting the ax fall to the ground and falling into her husband's arms. As Nik held her close, she saw Lorenzo behind him. He gave her a slight frown. Before she could register Lorenzo's warning, Nik had released her and was headed for their temporary sanctuary.

 

"Nik, wait!" she called, but it was too late.

 

Nik had Dean by the collar. Nik's olive-skin was reddened with rage that Dawn had only seen a few times before. She tugged on her husband's arms.

 

"Go outside, Dawn," Nik ground out. "You too, Dom."

 

Dom obeyed his father, but Dawn refused to let Nik go.

 

"No, let him go," she said. "We're fine. He didn't do anything."

 

"Dammit, Dawn!" Nik said. "First once, just do what I say!"

 

"He's tied up—"

 

"Cut me loose," Dean said. "Make it a fair fight or does coming after me like this make you feel like a big man?"

 

"Shut up," Lorenzo said, moving forward to grab his brother. "You're not helping." To Nik, Lorenzo added, "Did you notice that they're fine? Both Dawn and Dominik are okay."

 

Nik tossed Dean to the floor. "No thanks to you." His hand balled into a fist as the two brothers glared at each other. "All I've ever asked is that you protect them. I never expect you to put my wife and son in harm's way."

 

"Harm's way?" Dean sputtered. "I'm tied up. Besides, I offered to help—"

 

"Shut up," Dawn said. She closed her hand around Nik's fist and stroked his arm with her other hand. The heat from his body was scorching. "Nikky, please. You have cuts and bruises I need to tend to. Let me."

 

"This isn't done," Nik said to Lorenzo and Dean before he allowed Dawn to lead him to the kitchen.

 

$%^&

 

A crowd gathered outside the sanctuary and Rick knew a decision would have to be made soon, but the noises inside the building demanded that he tend to the most pressing issue first. He felt Michonne follow him as he eased into the room. Rick was poised to break up a fight, but he quickly saw that his services weren't needed. The Cassidy brothers had parted with Nik joining Dawn in the kitchen and Lorenzo standing over the stranger.

 

"Who's that?" Rick said.

 

"The name's Dean," the man answered. "Dean Winchester."

 

Rick nodded as he noticed the secure bindings on the man wrists and ankles. Dean appeared physically worn like the rest of them, but his mental state wasn't as easy to discern. Footsteps sounded to Rick's right. Dom and Carl entered. Then came Maggie, Glenn, and the other newcomers.

 

"Mama asked him the questions," Dom volunteered.

 

"Yeah," Rick said, returning his stare to Dean whose eyes glared back at him. "You had the rockets and shit?"

 

"Had it," Dean said, "until she took it." He jutted his chin toward Michonne. "Had more than that, but I guess it was used to break you out of that shithole they were calling a sanctuary. Terminus…what a load of bullshit. Tell me you blew it the fuck up."

 

"What do you know about it?" Glenn asked.

 

"Know it's a hellhole and nothing what it claimed to be," Dean said. "Found out the hard way. Barely got out."

 

"Where'd you get the firepower?" Rick asked. "Is there more?"

 

Dean shook his head. "That was it. If you used it up, tough shit."

 

"Where's your group?" Rick asked.

 

Dean's mouth tightened. "Who says I have one?"

 

"Everyone has one at one time or another," Bob said.

 

"I lost mine," Dean stated.

 

"How--?"

 

Dean cut off the big, burly red head. "Look, I get the twenty questions, but it all comes down to three things. One, you let me go. Two, you kill me. Three, we work together. Which one is it?"

 

Rick didn't answer. Instead, he looked at Michonne. Her silence commanded his attention. He felt as if he knew which way she was leaning, but he wasn't about to speak for her. She and Bob had made it out there alone, but Michonne had done it far longer than any of them. She couldn't have survived without learning how to read people. He trusted her instincts.

 

As if sensing his unspoken question, Michonne gave Rick a slight nod. Rick spoke to Lorenzo who hadn't moved from his position over Dean. "Will this be a problem with Nik?"

 

"This?" Dean grumbled low. "I have a name."

 

"Nothing I can't handle," Lorenzo said. He gestured to Dom. "Was there any problem while we were gone? Tell me the truth."

 

"I always do," Dom said. "Nothing really. He kept asking to be untied. Said he could help you at that place. He wasn't a jerk to us though."

 

"You sure?" Lorenzo asked.

 

"I wouldn't hurt a mom and her kid!" Dean muttered. "I'm not a complete asshole."

 

"Had me fooled," Michonne said barely containing a faint trace of humor.

 

"We have to make a decision," Maggie said. "And he's not the only one. This place ain't big enough for all of us."

 

"We all ain't staying," Abraham said. "We'll take the Suburban or the Explorer and be on our way—"

 

"The hell you will," Nik said as he and Dawn returned to the main room. "I have no say about the Chevy—that's Rick's call—but you for damn sure not taking the Fords."

 

"Fuck trekking to D.C. on foot!" Abraham replied. "There's enough room in the truck and a SUV for the rest of you. We need something with wheels."

 

"You'd best find what you need, but not in that damn parking lot." Nik folded his arms across his chest.

 

"We're keeping the Chevy," Rick said.

 

Abraham seemed ready to argue, but Rick waited.

 

"What's so special about D.C.?" Carl asked.

 

"Everything," Abraham said.

 

Later, while everyone else was taking turns in the shower or eating the food that Dawn rationed out, Rick and Michonne chatted outside at the tailgate of the Chevy. He took her hand, but resisted the urge to pull her closer. With new bodies and emotions still on edge, he felt as though he needed to be alert. Rick knew he wouldn't be able to give his full attention if was holding Michonne the way he wanted to.

 

"Do you believe that story?" Rick asked. "Sounds like a pipe dream with just enough reality sprinkled to make it seem doable."

"You thinking about heading north to Washington?" Michonne asked. A slight frown wrinkled her brow. Her expression became unreadable caught in the shade of the building and the vehicle.

 

"Not saying that," he said. "But it's not like we have a set plan. Maggie's right. We can't all stay here. It's too isolated and the resources are few."

 

"D.C. is miles away. We have 3 vehicles…four if we count Daryl's bike." She sighed. "Fuel is not guaranteed."

 

"What's the alternative?"

 

Michonne glanced toward where Beth was sitting on a log with Maggie, Glenn, and the new guy, Noah, stood nearby. The four of them were talking, smiling, reuniting. "The new kid…Noah. I heard him say something about where he came from. He said they had blocked off their neighborhood, but there were still some empty houses."

 

"How long ago?" Rick asked. "It seems like he'd been at Terminus a while. Anything could have happened since he left."

 

She looked down at the ground and nodded. "That's true."

 

Rick cupped her face. "Whatever decision we make won't offer guarantees. My gut's saying we oughta move on."

 

"I agree," she said, covering his hand with hers, "but we have to know when to stop, too. I fear what'll happen if we stay out here too long."

 

"But D.C.?" Rick asked. "I don't know. It doesn't feel right."

 

"Let's sleep on it," she said. "We have a roof, running water, and food. Tomorrow, we can figure it out. Make a decision about Dean, too."

 

Rick nodded. "We're sleeping in the Chevy. Carl too."

 

She smiled. "Of course."

 

$%^&

 

"I can't believe you think we'll find a deer out here," Sasha said.

 

"Ssh!" Daryl pressed a finger to his lips and waved for her to follow him. He pointed at the ground. "Look. Those are deer tracks. Fresh ones. We'll find something."

 

"The boys caught rabbits."

 

"Not enough to feed us all," Daryl whispered. "Now hush, woman."

 

Sasha rolled her eyes, but she remained quiet as she moved in line behind him. Her gaze traveled over his crouched form. His shoulders were tight and raised as he held the crossbow. To be honest, she enjoyed the sight of his biceps and forearms, too. She relished the hardness of him on those occasions when he let his guard down and hugged her close. In the back of her mind, she scolded herself for allowing her thoughts to wander, but the recent events at Terminus had her keyed up. They had come so close to losing themselves and each other. She wasn't too keen on wasting any more time to doubts or hesitation. If food wasn't a major concern for all involved, she would—

 

"Sasha!" Daryl whispered as he pulled her down alongside him in the brush. "Did you hear that?"

 

"The deer?" she asked, confused.

 

"No," he said. "Listen."

 

"What?" Sasha scanned the area around them. Trees loomed overhead. Twigs and branches lay scattered over the drying grass. Gold and brown leaves reminded her that summer had given way to fall. Bushes cluttered the space and offered numerous hiding spaces. But other than an occasional breeze nothing moved except for her and Daryl.

 

"Voices," Daryl murmured against her ear. "You didn't hear it?"

 

"No. Maybe we should get back."

 

"Forget the deer?" Daryl asked.

 

Then Sasha recognized the brightness in his blue eyes and the faint twitch in the corner of his mouth. She shoved him. "You!"

 

"Ssh!" he whispered, smiling.

 

"Is there a deer?" she asked, "Or are you fooling about that, too?"

 

Redness crept across his cheeks as he looked away for a moment. "The track's a little cold."

 

"So we're just out here wandering around because…?"

 

He tilted his head until their gazes locked. "It's crowded back there with everyone getting adjusted and all. Not so much here. Quiet, too."

 

"You could've told me that. You didn't have to make up a deer…voices." She shifted to sit on the ground, facing him. "I would've come without the pretense."

 

"I know," he mumbled so low that she had to think to understand his words. "Don't want them wondering what we're doing is all."

 

"What are we doing?"

 

He moved onto his knees, set the crossbow within reach, and took hold of her shoulders. His breathing was uneven, but his face was determined. A moment later, Daryl closed in and Sasha felt his breath on her mouth, then his lips on hers.

 

The kiss was soft, tentative, and gentle. The first taste of him was very Daryl. Sasha angled toward him, wanting more and knowing that going too fast could be the wrong move. But without thinking, her mouth parted and her tongue skimmed his bottom lip. For a second, his fingers dug into her flesh as he stiffened and held himself still. The second felt long and endless until he drew her closer, his hands sliding to her waist and his tongue thrusting against hers. Sasha trembled as his moans vibrated through her and he lowered them to the earthen floor.

 

$%^&

 

Michonne was tired. Having Maggie, Glenn, Bob, and Beth back was more than she could have ever hoped for, but she hadn't realized how smoothly things were running before the huge groups were situated under one roof. She supposed the Cassidy family had made the previous transition easier. Dawn's shit was organized and falling into her groove had made sense to Michonne. However in just a few hours, Michonne realized that despite how smooth everything had been prior to their escape from Terminus, the different factions weren't blending well. The tension angered and annoyed her, but she worked on keeping herself in check. Maintaining a level head kept her steady even as it made her exhausted.

 

"Want me to do something?" Carl appeared at her side. He and Dom had skinned the rabbits and Lorenzo and Glenn were working the makeshift grill.

 

"Like what?" she asked.

 

Carl shrugged, cocking his head as he gazed at her from under the brim of the Sheriff's hat.

 

She hefted the katana onto her shoulder. "I was thinking about doing a perimeter check."

 

"Dad's on it. He, Dom, and Nik just left," he said.

 

"And you didn't want in on that?" she asked.

 

He shook his head.

 

"Rick sent you to check on me?" she asked, planting a fist on her hip.

 

"No," Carl said. "I saw you alone." He pushed the hat back and wiped the sweat from his brow. "What are we gonna do with all these people?"

 

"Some will stay," she said. "Some will go. I imagine it'll work itself out."

 

"The big one's still talking about one of the cars," Carl confided. "If he tries to take one…"

 

Michonne shook her head. "He won't. There's more of us and one of him. He'd be a fool to try it."

 

Carl gave her a look that she had to resist chuckling in response. "Do you believe what he says about D.C.? That the one with the weird hair knows how to stop the walkers?"

 

She sighed. "I don't know. It sounds good, though, doesn't it?"

 

"Maybe too good," he murmured. "Bob's filling up bottles of water. I'm gonna see if he needs help."

 

"Stay close by."

 

Carl nodded as he walked away. Michonne watched him. The wooden post at her back offered some relief, but she was not foolish enough to let her guard down. Her senses kicked in to take in the smells and noises that alerted her to approaching walkers or other dangers. The newcomers threatened to throw her off, but nothing really came close to the odor of decaying bodies.

 

"Have you seen Nik?" Dawn approached with the ax handle gripped tightly in her hand.

 

"He's with Rick and Dom," Michonne said. "Perimeter check. Something wrong?"

 

Dawn positioned herself to face Michonne and the former wildlife sanctuary. "He's still pissed, and that big red head… I don't know about him."

 

"He's quick and a good fighter," Michonne said.

 

"You need more than that to make it out here," Dawn said. "His mouth… Nik's still pissed about Lorenzo. About Dean. About almost not coming back. The big one…what's his name?"

 

"Abraham."

 

"Yeah… Abraham's still talking smack about us having vehicles and him needing to get Eugene east…" Dawn shook her head. "If he tries to take one, hell's gonna break loose. I can talk Nik down 95% of the time, but it's that 5% few are ready for."

 

Michonne frowned. "He hurt you?"

 

Dawn scoffed. "Never. He's protective, but he's not an asshole. Right now, he's still working through whatever's bothering him. Figuring out new people is hard. The girl in the Daisy Dukes…?"

 

"Her name's Rosita," Michonne said.

 

"Okay, Rosita," Dawn said, "she was just trying to tell me how to ration the food supplies."

 

"That explains the ax," Michonne said.

 

"Huh?"

 

"Nothing. What happened? I didn't hear a yelling match."

 

"Did you hear laughter?" Upon Michonne's blank stare, Dawn continued, "Dean fell on his ass laughing like it was a comedy. I hadn't said a damn thing to her. Nothing. I just looked at her."

 

"Was it the look you're giving me now?" Michonne asked.

 

Dawn's usually soft features were darkened into a stern mask. Her brown eyes blazed and her mouth was a straight, firm line. Michonne remembered seeing that look on her mother's face anytime she was out of line. It was standard among black mothers.

 

"What are you talking about?" Dawn snapped. "I'm just looking at you. I'm not giving you a look."

 

Michonne bit back a smile. "So, what happened with Rosita?"

 

"I informed her that we already have a system in place and if she is more than welcome to learn it." Dawn rolled her eyes. "As if we didn't know not to gorge on our findings. Besides, what the hell is she thinking? One scratch and she's done. If I had a spare pair of jeans, I'd hand them over. It's too cold to walk around like that anyway."

 

"I'm thinking Nik's not the only one with that 5% thing," Michonne said, gesturing for Dawn to join her against the wooden post. "Did something happen while we were gone? You sure Dean is okay?"

 

Dawn nodded, looking at the ground. "Nothing. He's fine."

 

"We'll have to figure out what to do with him."

 

"He could be an asset," Dawn said. "Hard to say."

 

"What does your gut tell you?"

 

Dawn chewed her bottom lip. "He's not a bad guy, but…"

 

Michonne frowned. "But what?"

 

Dawn hesitated and then she shook her head. "Nothing. He answered the questions. Gut says he was telling the truth."

 

A short while later, Michonne still continued to assess newcomers. After finding a home and a family at the prison, she was not so quick to shun the possibility of expanding. Dawn and Carl's observations were similar to hers, but she hesitated on making a call. She noticed that Glenn, Maggie, and Bob seemed to get along with the oddly matched group of four. The other one, Dean, was a wild card. Michonne had spoken to him again and he seemed legit. She sighed. Did she really want to think about this now?

 

"Hey!" Rick stood not two feet from her and his face crinkled with concern. "Something wrong?"

 

"No, just thinking," she said. "You've been standing there for a minute, haven't you?"

 

"Give or take," he murmured. He took her hand. "Come with me."

 

He led her past the makeshift grill. As they passed, they heard the friendly banter between Glenn and Lorenzo. Maggie gestured for them to get something to eat, but Rick assured her they would in a minute.

 

With a wide oak tree at her back and Rick at her front, she gazed up at him. Her fingers circled his belt loop and she pulled. He flattened his hand against the tree, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, nose, and forehead.

 

"Thank you," he said.

 

"For what?"

 

He didn't respond to that. Instead, he asked, "What's got you all worked up?"

 

"I'm hardly worked up," she said. "Just thinking. There's a lot of us now."

 

"Nik and I were talking about that," Rick admitted.

 

"Has he calmed down?"

 

Rick shrugged. "Some. He had good reason."

 

"Think Abraham will be a problem?"

 

Rick shook his head. "Nothing we can't handle. Is he the only one you're concerned about?"

 

"Pretty much," she said. "Not worried about Dean. If I had been, I wouldn't have left him with them."

 

"I know," he said. "Nik understands that." He looked away while he gathered his words. "Terminus was…off. They were doing things there… We came close today, Michonne. It was different. We need to find a place that's ours."

 

"Are you thinking D.C.?" she asked.

 

"I'm not sure," he answered. "Sounds like a pipe dream. What do you think?"

"What if it's legit?" Michonne held the same doubts as Rick, but she didn't want suspicion to prevent them from putting an end to the ceaseless wandering. Carl and Dom needed stability. It wasn't fair that they had to grow up this way with their innocence taken with every walker kill. "I want a home, Rick."

 

He pulled her into his arms. His words came as a whisper against her ear. "So do I, Michonne. So do I."

 

$%^&

 

Daryl killed six squirrels to make up for the deer, but that wasn't the cause for the shit-eating grin that he failed to contain. Every glance at Sasha made him puff with pride and grow warm with the memories of her sweet kisses. A few times doubt crept in and he wondered if she knew that he was no expert. He had feared being sloppy or tensing up when they got too close. Yeah, she was his girlfriend and all that—no, she was his woman, but he didn't want to shame himself with his inexperience. But when their mouths touched none of that mattered. He refused to let himself think about sex. One day, he'd tell her his full story, but the going slow worked for them and he wasn't ready to rush it.

 

The food seemed to ease the weird vibe that had greeted him and Sasha upon their return. After the meal was done, cleanup happened quickly and the tension from the day's events kicked in. Prior to the addition of the newcomers, the wildlife building had been just big enough for their group. Now, everyone was bitching about space and what was the next plan. It got to the point that Daryl had enough.

 

"Okay, everybody just shut up!" he said. "We got a roof over our heads. Food in our guts. Shit could be a whole lot worse."

 

"We can't stay here forever," Rosita said. "We have to keep going."

 

"Ain't nobody stopping you, but you'd be a fool to head out tonight," Daryl said. "Can't it wait til the mornin'?"

 

"Just the morning," Abraham said. He glanced at Eugene. "But we ain't going on foot."

 

"We've already settled this," Nik said. "You ain't taking my truck or my brother's."

 

"The Chevy is ours," Rick said quietly.

 

"The Harley belongs to Daryl," Sasha added.

 

Abraham's face reddened. He looked ready to explode, but Glenn spoke first.

 

"We can figure this out," Glenn said. "Maggie and I told you that we'd help you get to D.C., but you're not taking anything from our friends. We can find vehicles out there."

 

"You're doing what?" Beth asked. "You didn't tell me."

 

"We just decided," Maggie explained. "Of course, I want you to come too if that's what you want—"

 

"Noah's place is fortified," Beth said. "I think we should go there. D.C. just sounds like what we found at the C.D.C..."

 

"We don't know that," Glenn said, gently. "There's only one way to find out."

 

"But Noah, tell them," Beth said.

 

"This is some stupid shit—" Abraham cut in.

 

"How do you know?" Carl asked. "You don't know what happened at the C.D.C. You weren't there. I'd bet there's nothing left in D.C. It's just a burned out city like Atlanta."

 

"There's things about the government that you don't understand, kid," Abraham said. "A protocol that's in place—"

 

"I'm going with Noah," Beth said. "I've seen enough protocols. Terminus was full of them. If this could've been fixed, the government should've done a long time ago. Tell them about your home." She looped her arm around Noah's and pulled him toward the center.

 

"It's not too far from Washington," Noah said. "We turned our neighborhood into a compound. We'll have extra vehicles. There's enough room for everyone."

 

"If it's so great, why did you leave it?" the quiet brunette asked. Daryl thought her named started with a "T" but he couldn't remember.

 

"We…my dad and me…came to Atlanta to look for my uncle," Noah said, his voice deep with an undercurrent of emotion. "We never found him. I lost my dad. Leg got busted. Ended up at Terminus."

 

"How long were you there?" Dawn asked.

 

"A few weeks," Noah said. "You know, it's kinda hard to tell anymore. It could've been a month, but I don't think so. Why?"

 

Dawn glanced at Nik but she didn't answer. Dean, who was now freed from his confines, said from his stance against the cement wall, "'Cause a lot can happen. Things can flip on a dime."

 

Noah shook his head. "No, we have a good system. Good people looking out for each other. You'll see."

 

Daryl felt Sasha move to stand close to him. He sensed her unease before he saw it on her face. He turned away from the group to fully face her. "What is it?"

 

"We're still not too far from the prison," she said quietly. "Tyrese… I can't… I know it doesn't make sense, but we got Glenn, Maggie, Beth, and Bob back. He's my brother, Daryl."

 

"They can go," he said. "If they want, they can leave. We'll stay behind."

 

"You don't have to—"

 

"I'd never leave without you," Daryl said. "He's your brother. We can double back and see what we find. At first light, we'll head out."

 

Wetness glistened in her brown eyes as she gave him a faint smile. "Thank you."

 

"You don't ever have to say that to me," he said. "Not ever."

 

"Rick?" Nik said. "You're quiet."

 

"Listening," Rick replied. "Now, that we're all together again, I'm not too keen on us parting." He looked at Glenn and Maggie to emphasize his point. Then he directed his gaze to include everyone. "One thing's for sure, one night here is more than enough. Noah's place sounds like a good place to start. It'll be a snug fit, but the three trucks should be enough to get us there—"

 

"We ain't taking no detours—" Abraham said.

 

"No one's suggesting that," Michonne said. "It's on the way to D.C. It only makes sense to stop there and see. Ain't no harm in that and if you need to move on, do it."

 

"And since none of us are volunteering our rides," Lorenzo added, "this is probably the best deal you'll get."

 

Daryl grabbed his and Sasha's things and they headed to one of the smaller rooms in the back. He had already stashed his bike in there. Sasha laughed softly when she saw the Harley. Daryl tossed their sleeping bags onto the floor, lit a couple of candles, and sat against the wall. She snuggled next to him with her head on his shoulder. The conversation sounded muffled as it passed through the concrete structure. Daryl decided that later, after everyone had said their fill and quiet settled over their refuge, he'd talk to Rick and Michonne. Other than Sasha, he was closest to them and wanted them to know their plans. And maybe he wanted the chance to tell them goodbye if it came to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: First, if you're still reading, thanks! And if you're new, welcome! I haven't forgotten about this story or any of them, but my real life dictates my fic writing schedule. That's the way it goes sometimes. Any hoo…for clarity and in case you're not sure, Daryl and Sasha did NOT have sex. At least, not yet. So, they're all together and things are crazy. The story focus will remain the same, though, with a little extra to accommodate some of the newcomers. Your thoughts, suggestions, and respectful rants are appreciated. Here's a little preview for Part 16…Sasha/Daryl may have help with their journey. We'll see. Thanks again! ☺]

**Author's Note:**

> [A/N: Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment. I'd love to hear from you! In Part 2, both groups run into potential trouble. Daryl and Rick make snap decisions to keep their parties safe. The Countdown to October 12th continues…]

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lather, Rinse, Repeat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4655667) by [TheNextPage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNextPage/pseuds/TheNextPage)




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